


The Cat, the Canary, and the Dinosaur

by stick2theplan



Series: The Cat, the Canary, and the Dinosaur - Universe [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Brunch with the fam, Domesticity, Drinking, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Never Have I Ever, Slight Smut, planning for the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stick2theplan/pseuds/stick2theplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyssa and Sara are visiting Oliver and co for the week. Of course, this means they'll at least have to endure a semi-awkward pseudo-family brunch. Fighting bad guys is easy compared to answering awkward questions from Oliver's too-perceptive son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Just Brunch. What Could Go Wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic, Oliver has (at least partial) custody of William, Sara is back from her stint with the Legends, certain people are still in the picture…you get the point. If you're a fan of other comics stuffs, there *might* be easter eggs. Maybe.
> 
> For anyone not familiar with other DC media, there will be more info about that stuff in the end notes.

Dreaming about Sara was not at all uncommon for Nyssa, particularly at the precious times when she and her beloved were mercifully reunited after trying missions. This was different, though. Dream-Sara was working her so-very-familiar magic, but, as clouded as her thoughts were, Nyssa felt her stomach tighten and recognized that it was much too real for a dream. Her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and whatever she wanted to say to Sara was lost because she couldn’t form a single coherent word.

Her Canary was smirking, hovering above her and looking so satisfied and mischievous that Nyssa wondered if their monikers shouldn’t be reversed to better fit the idiom about the cat that ate the canary. She wore only a tight white tank top and underwear, an outfit which Nyssa definitely took no objection to. Sara sat back on her haunches—and, incidentally, on Nyssa’s thighs, since she was straddling her girlfriend—and popped two guilty fingers into her mouth teasingly before drawling, “Y’know, it’s not very assassin-like to _sleep through an orgasm._ ”

Nyssa blinked, because the dampness pressed against her thigh was very distracting. “I didn’t,” she argued, silently tacking on “barely”. It’s a technicality, but she’d use it to escape the indignity.

“You sure bout that, love? Never said I was talking about that one.”

The assassin gaped. How long had she been— Sara’s touch interrupted her thoughts, fingers dragging languidly up Nyssa’s side, nudging her t-shirt up as she went. Nyssa closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. She was definitely feeling more than a little hazy.

Refocusing her gaze on her beloved, she tried to switch their positions, but Sara resisted and whispered, “Just…given the hell we’ve had to deal with the last few weeks, can you…I want to…” Sara’s fingers curled slightly around Nyssa's ribs, and she fixed a weighted look on the woman beneath her. “Just let me have this?”

Smiling, Nyssa reached up and pulled Sara down for a kiss, nodding. “I suppose I am amenable, my love.”

The searing kiss was followed immediately by Sara’s tongue carving a determined path down her throat and over her collarbone, which Sara nipped at while she yanked her girlfriend’s shirt the rest of the way up and then, finally, off. She continued her sure path, diligently marking Nyssa at all her most sensitive spots. The brunette bit her tongue to keep from reprimanding such teenage behavior. She was content enough at the moment not to be upset about who might later see the purpling evidence across her skin.

By the time Sara settled between her thighs, nose nuzzling the soft skin, Nyssa was practically shaking. Her fingers tightened around her love’s blonde hair. Sara’s tongue flicked out, and a breathless moan escaped as her entire body arched. With her head turned, she could see the nightstand. On it was a plastic dinosaur. She froze.

“Nys?” Sara popped up, worry etched into her features. “Something wrong? Are you okay?” She followed her girlfriend’s gaze and laughed. “Oh, did you forget where we were? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Nyssa would’ve rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned. “What if…Beloved, his room is right next door. What if he can hear us?”

“I think you just voiced the nightmare of every parent,” Sara replied, and then shuddered. “Ok, that made me think of my own parents and _ew._ But I’m sure it’s fine. The walls aren’t what I’d call thin. And you’re not what I’d call loud…mostly.” She was grinning widely again, no doubt remembering the exceptions.

“Alright,” Nyssa sighed. Not that she had much choice. She was burning, regardless of her reservations about possibly traumatizing Oliver Queen’s son. But thoughts of William or his father or anybody or anything flew out the window as Sara added fodder to the fire.

 

Her Canary stretched, the grin back on her face now that her mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. Patting Nyssa’s leg, she hopped off the bed and tugged on a pair of sweatpants. “I’ll give you a minute. I gotta eat something. Meet me in the kitchen when you can stand.”

Minx. Nyssa opened one eye and immediately called out to her girlfriend, whose hand was on the doorknob. “You would do to wash your face first, my love.”

If it was even possible, Sara’s grin widened, and she swiped around her mouth before sucking suggestively on her fingers. Nyssa groaned. This girl was going to be the death of her, one way or another. She was reminded of another cat idiom—one about cream. As Sara bounced into the bathroom with all too much energy, Nyssa forced herself up and pulled on a pair of yoga pants, followed by a bra and a gray t-shirt. She checked her own appearance in the mirror and dragged a hand through her hair. Captain Lance and Laurel were coming by shortly for brunch, and she didn’t want to give her beloved’s father any more reason to dislike her. Conveniently, her hair was long enough to pretty effectively hide the bruises Sara had left on her neck and collarbone.

The guilty party bounded out of the bathroom, grabbed Nyssa's hand, and dragged her out of the room and towards Oliver Queen's fridge. Nyssa joined a peppy Felicity Smoak at the counter, while Sara made a beeline for the water dispenser on the refrigerator, gulping down two full glasses before even taking a breath.

"Thirsty?" Felicity asked, smiling at her friend in her usual, innocent way. Sara laughed loudly, and the confused tech whiz looked to Nyssa for an explanation.

Nyssa could feel her face heating but offered, "When one trains as much as we are accustomed to, it is very important to stay hydrated." It was weak, but Felicity just shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah, Oliver always has a water bottle with him. Makes sense. He sweats a lot when he works out in the foundry. Makes him shiny. I definitely don't have a problem with shiny. I'm going to stop talking now before I say something ridiculous."

Sara came around the counter and patted Felicity's shoulder. "I think we're past that point, Lis." She smirked and forsook the third, available chair in favor of Nyssa's lap, which earned another bemused look from Felicity, who voiced, for the umpteenth time, that she didn't understand how Sara could be so insanely comfortable invading the personal space of the lethal assassin. She knew at this point that Nyssa took such comments as compliments. Sara wiggled her eyebrows. "We just know each other very _personally_ , Nys and I."

"Auntie Nyssa!" a small voice exclaimed, and eight year old William barreled into the room and threw his arms around the woman, who wrapped her free arm around him in return.

"Good morning, William."

"Hey Nug," Sara added, ruffling the boy's hair. She wasn't the least bit offended by his affection for her better half. Honestly, it made her heart ache to see the way Nyssa transformed around the boy. After rescuing and protecting William when he was kidnapped several months ago, Nyssa had formed a strong attachment to Oliver's son, which he reciprocated enthusiastically. It made Sara long for something she'd never thought she could have.

"Hi Auntie Sara," William chirped, clambering up into the third chair. "How long are you staying? Will it be the whole week this time? Please?" He gave a little fist pump when they nodded. He was definitely a Queen. "So," he whispered, casting a surreptitious glance toward Felicity, who was focused on her tablet. "You'll teach me how to use a bow and arrow now? I'm old enough!"

"Absolutely not," Oliver declared, striding into the kitchen and fixing his son with an admonishing stare.

Roy entered on his mentor's heels and smirked. "I can get you a bowl of water, if you feel like slapping things," he offered. William pulled a face but quickly changed his tune when Nyssa voiced her approval of the technique. Roy reached for the cabinet, but Oliver stopped him.

"Not now," he said, voice light but firm and eyes laughing. "Captain Lance and Aunt Laurel are on their way, and Uncle Barry might be joining us, too. I'd rather you _children_ not start making a mess right now."

Roy rolled his eyes, and Nyssa indignantly objected to being called a child.

A gust of wind whirled through the kitchen, and the always-late Barry Allen appeared, tucking his sweater into his khakis as he slowed to a stop. "Hey guys! What'd I miss?"

"I told him ten instead of eleven," Felicity explained, and the confusion in the room washed away. "Congratulations, Bar, you're early for something!"

Quentin Lance's voice boomed from the front entrance as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "I think we just saw…Hey! Bart! How ya doin'?"

Sara chuckled quietly, "Oh, so that's where that name came from." Her girlfriend gave her a curious look, but she shook her head. "It's nothing. I can tell you later."

"Barry," the speedster corrected, shaking Quentin's hand. "Nice to see you again, sir."

"Hey Barry," Laurel said with a smile that she quickly redirected when she saw William. "Hey kiddo! Don't I get a hug?" The boy hopped down from his perch and ran over to her.

Sara stood too, to greet her family, hugging her father and sister before crouching down to William's level. "I'm feelin' a little left out here, Nug."

He threw his arms around her neck. When he pulled away, he remarked, "Your shirt smells kinda funny. Not bad, but…not like you usually do."

Sara's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Laurel caught it, of course, because she was closest, and what didn't Laurel notice about her sister these days? Luckily, Sara was quick on her feet. She chuckled. "Yeah, my whole suitcase smells kinda funny. Such are the woes of traveling, bud. Plus," she stage whispered, "I probably need to wash it. But I hate doing laundry, so I'll leave that to Auntie Nyssa." The group laughed at that. It was a well known fact that Sara loathed laundry. She used to bring several weeks-worth home from college so her mother could do it for her. And on several occasions, she had simply left workout clothes in the arrowcave until Felicity decided, unbidden, to wash and return them all to her.

Nyssa rolled her eyes. "Someday, I shall insist that you do your own washing, my Canary."

"No you won't. Because you looove me," Sara sang, skipping over and curling her arm around Nyssa's waist.

"This is true."

"Aw," Thea Queen cooed from the doorway. "You two are adorable. Let's get some little assassin babies up in here. You know, some of us "teens" were planning to investigate a CADMUS facility later this week. Let me know if I should pick anything up for you." At that, Quentin looked equal parts horrified and wistful.

Felicity finally got up from her tablet. "Alright troops, let's get to the table!"

"Tell me you didn't cook, Lis," Sara begged.

"No, I did," Oliver said. "You'll notice the house hasn't burned down." He kissed Felicity's cheek to rid her of the indignant look.

Barry rubbed the back of his neck and grinned, "Good, because I'm starving."

Almost everyone responded unanimously, "You're always starving."

The group filtered into the next room and sat down at the large dining table. It was almost as big as the one back in Queen Mansion. Oliver sat at the head of the table with Thea on his right and Felicity on his left. Laurel took the seat next to Felicity, and Sara sat next to her sister, pulling Nyssa to sit beside her. Usually, they sat a lot closer than separate chairs would allow, but neither woman wanted to push their luck with Quentin. William climbed into the seat next to Nyssa, which was a surprise to no one, and waved for Barry to sit beside him, which put the speedster at the other head of the table. Quentin left a space so he could sit across from his daughters, and Roy sat between him and Thea.

Sara's phone buzzed from her pocket. Oops. Oliver would be mad if he knew she'd brought it to the table. She hadn't realized it was in her pocket when she grabbed these pants. She looked around the table and saw Thea with her head ducked, phone, presumably, in hand. Taking the risk, she checked her own and smiled. It was from Thea, of course. The girl had sent her a message that said, _"I was serious about CADMUS. You two deserve something good."_

Sara nudged Nyssa, who suppressed a smile of her own. She texted back, _"I know, thank you. We'll def talk about this later."_ Thea clearly still felt guilty and was trying her best to make up for it. In Sara's opinion, they were more than even because Thea had befriended and been there for Sin when she herself couldn't be. Speaking of which…"Where's Sin?"

"Here." A tired voice called from the kitchen. Sin walked in, dressed and presentable as usual, but looking very unhappy to be awake. The teen rubbed her eyes and plopped down beside Quentin. They had yet to tell him the truth about the legal relationship between her and Sara, but Quentin had quickly taken to his adoptive granddaughter, even if he didn't know that's what she was. Sin, for her part, was very concerned that he might have a heart attack when they actually told him.

 

> "We'll havta sneak it in when you tell him you an' Nys are gettin' married," Sin had decided in the car yesterday. "Then I won't feel so guilty if he dies."
> 
> Sara had looked at her from the passenger seat, very taken aback. "If you think we're telling him this weekend, you've absolutely lost it."
> 
> Sin had ignored the comment and snatched at her hand. "Where's your ring?"
> 
> "Like I said, we are NOT ready to tell my dad."
> 
> "It is you who is not ready," Nyssa had clarified. "Do not blame me for your cowardice." She hadn't taken her eyes off the road, but the corners of her mouth had turned up. She hardly blamed her beloved for being nervous.
> 
> "Yeah, c'mon. Put it back on," Sin had insisted. "You're gonna break my other Mom's heart." At that, Nyssa had looked like she might be the one to have a heart attack. Sin was doubled over with laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. "Don't worry, Nys. I'm not gonna ask you to pack my lunches or nothin'."
> 
> So Sara had put the engagement ring back on her finger, but she twisted it around so the diamond was at her palm. Hopefully her dad wouldn't notice. She didn't think she was ready for his disapproval.

Sara's phone buzzed again. Another text from Thea, _":) yay! K, better put this away before Ollie gets mad."_ Both slid their phones into their pockets and looked up at the conversation around them.

The brunch was going very well, which was unusual for the group of heroes and their loved ones, who were used to dramatic interruptions. Everyone was laughing and passing eggs and bagels and fruit. Sara was distracted from the larger conversation when William spoke softly to her partner. He pouted, "Auntie Nyssa, were you fighting bad guys again?"

"Yes William," Nyssa responded honestly. "Why does this concern you? You know I am more than proficient in handling my opponents."

William reached up and brushed her neck, and Nyssa's spine went rigid. "Because you're hurt." Nyssa tried desperately to reassure the boy without calling attention to their discussion.

Unfortunately, Barry Allen didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. "Yeah, Nyssa, you do look pretty bruised." Several women around the table fixed him with glares that could cut diamonds, but the men looked like they hadn't quite caught on. Sin was pretending to gag in spite of the oddly pleased look on her face. It was nice to be part of a happy family. Even if it made her a little uncomfortable to think about certain aspects.

They probably could've gotten away with the fighting excuse if Nyssa wasn't blushing so furiously. It didn't help when a smirking Sara casually draped her arm around Nyssa's shoulders, in an attempt to hide the evidence, and purred, "We're just fine, Nug. Sometimes Nys bites off more than she can chew, and I have to come to her rescue." Nyssa looked like she wanted very much to argue that statement.

"Sara?" Quentin questioned uneasily.

The Canary followed everyone's eyes and realized her ring had turned around. The giant rock Nyssa had put on her finger four nights ago was sparkling, dazzlingly bright against the assassin's shoulder. "Oops."

Instantly, Laurel was out of her seat, grasping Sara's left hand and squealing, "You didn't tell me! Sara!"

The younger Lance sister shrugged, a shy smile on her lips. She was endlessly relieved about her big sister's complete acceptance of her relationship with Nyssa. It's not that anyone she cared about was rude, but Laurel was the only one who didn't even flinch when Sara came out to her. "It just happened the other night," Sara admitted.

And, in the next moment, they were surrounded by their friends. She caught sight of Roy hugging Sin in congratulations, and her heart melted a little more. She had twisted slightly, and she reached for Nyssa's hand with her right while her left was being cooed over. She overheard William asking if they were really getting married and if he could be the ring bear. Nyssa laughed heartily, which was entirely unusual but completely welcome.

"Dad?" Sara turned her attention to the only person who hadn't gotten up to shower them in well wishes. He was staring, a blank look on his face, and he didn't respond until Laurel snapped at him.

"I…I can't believe my baby is getting married," the police captain gulped. "When did my girls grow up so much?" Both sisters rolled their eyes. Given that both were stealthy crimefighters, and one was a League-trained assassin, he should've been over the whole growing up thing already.

Sara blinked at him hopefully. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad? As long as you're happy, and it's abundantly clear you are, sweetheart. Though, I don't need to know everything about…everything," he grimaced, clearly less than thrilled at what William had inadvertently put on display. "And, y'know, tradition does say you're _supposed_ to ask the father for permission." He raised an eyebrow at Nyssa.

The woman met his eyes and responded earnestly, "I did very strongly consider seeking your approval, Captain Lance. However, I imagine my beloved Sara would not have taken well to the idea of being treated as property." Sara nodded firmly in agreement.

"S'alright Nyssa. I don't disagree with that choice. We all know what it's like bein' on the wrong side of Sara's anger." He smiled fondly at his daughter. "She was an awful teenager."

Sin piped up. "Speaking of teenagers…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, so sappy, right? Who am I? 
> 
> If you don't know other DC media, Project Cadmus is a genetic engineering project. They specialize in making super-powered clones for dubious—if not outright evil—purposes. But it seems reasonable that they'd have the technology to make a kid that's equal parts Nyssa and Sara's DNA. At least, Thea seems to think so. I'd probably agree.


	2. Never Have I…What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one at Oliver and Felicity's continues with a good, old-fashioned drinking game.

By the time Quentin was leaving later that afternoon, he was rubbing his temples. He had William in tow, because he figured the other adults could used some "grown-up" time. Nyssa was the only one ready to resist, but Sara shot her a look that promised a kid-free night would be worthwhile. Honestly, they all just needed to drink a little and unwind a lot. Quentin looked like he wanted to take Sin too, but Sara assured him that was not necessary.

He finally left, but not before reminding his daughter, "You better tell your mother bout all this. She'll be real pissed if she finds out from someone else."

Sara pulled Laurel aside, unable to keep the concern off her face. "Are you sure you want to stay? We're gonna be drinking. You know I really want to spend time with you, but I don't want you to torture yourself."

"I'm fine," Laurel promised. "The hardest part was walking away once I hit rock bottom, but life is really good right now. My little sister is getting married! I'm not the least bit tempted." The two hugged, and Sara once again thanked whoever was listening for her awesome sister.

The adults, plus Sin, Thea, and Roy, who didn't quite count, even though Thea and Roy were twenty one, spent the early part of the evening relaxing. Sara reclined on Oliver's über comfortable couch with Nyssa's head in her lap and recounted to the other women in excruciating detail how the brunette assassin proposed. Nyssa mostly ignored them in favor of the ridiculously long book she was reading, letting Sara run idle fingers through her hair and interrupting only when she felt her Canary's retelling wasn't completely accurate. Laurel had changed into a pair of Felicity's sweatpants, and she, Felicity, and Sara turned on the TV to heckle reality stars once the story was over. Sara could feel Nyssa's eyes rolling, but she was happy to be spending time with the people she cared about.

Barry, Roy and Oliver were working out downstairs, and Sin and Thea had disappeared somewhere to catch up. Sara had a sneaking suspicion that the two girls were discussing the CADMUS job and the rumored technology that had them both so excited. In all fairness, the idea that it could be possible for CADMUS tech to produce a child from a combination of hers and Nyssa's DNA was thrilling, but Sara had learned long ago not to get her hopes up about anything. Especially something so far fetched.

The mood shifted dramatically at nine o'clock, when Cisco Ramon showed up with two handles of vodka and bellowed, "Who's ready to get turnt?" He looked to Thea, who had opened the door, the second the words left his mouth. "Turnt, right? Is that cool?" 

Thea rolled her eyes. "It's totally crash."

"What?"

"I thought we were saying words that don't make sense," she drawled. Sara was very certain she was just messing with the engineer, because she swore Thea had used the very same term at the club recently. Turnt, fleek, bae. Teenagers these days came up with some really ridiculous words. Nyssa was her bae, though. She had no qualms admitting that. Obviously.

Caitlin Snow slipped in the door from behind Cisco. In her hand was a large jug that said "FOR BARRY" in huge Sharpie letters. "It's so he can actually get drunk," she explained.

"Awesome!" Barry whooped, taking the jug from Caitlin and uncapping it to get a whiff. "Woah. That's strong stuff."

Pretty soon, even Nyssa had a solo cup, and they were all dancing. The couches in Oliver and Felicity's living room had been pushed out of the way for the closest thing to a party many of them had been to in years. (Verdant didn't count, since working there wasn't the same as partying yourself.) Laurel and Felicity were practically falling on their faces in hysterics at Sara's attempts to teach Nyssa the art of grinding. Her girlfriend—she should really work on remembering the word fiancée—didn't understand the purpose of suggestive dancing. "It's _fun_ ," Laurel, Felicity and Sara jointly insisted.

Eventually, people started to get tired, and Thea's eyes lit up with an idea that would never have flown if most of them weren't already pretty buzzed. Thea essentially demanded they pull the couches back in and play a game of Never Have I Ever. When it looked like Oliver might object, she announced, "It's only fair! I didn't get to go to college. I deserve at least something of the experience. Pleeeeease."

So they all refilled their cups—Barry dragged over his jug—and sat down in a circle. Sara hastily explained the rules to Nyssa. "Basically, we go around the circle and each person says something they've never done. Everyone who has done that thing has to drink." Nyssa nodded, looking very much like she had no idea what to expect, and that definitely made her uneasy. She'd participate for Sara's sake, though.

Since Laurel and Sin couldn't drink alcohol, they had glasses of water, which they clinked in solidarity. Laurel then huffed and started them off with a smirk in her sister's direction. "Never have I ever kissed a girl."

"Jerk!" Sara called from her position against Nyssa's shoulder. She took a swig of her Moscow Mule as Oliver, Roy, and Cisco did the same, and Barry struggled momentarily with his jug of speedster-grade jungle juice. Nyssa took a sip from her own cup, then leaned down to steal a kiss from Sara. Across the circle, Roy had done the same with Thea. Sara smirked at her fiancée. Yes, she definitely liked that word. "Was that confirmation?" Nyssa grinned back.

Barry and Cisco were both staring. They hadn't spent enough time around the couple to be as accustomed to their displays of affection as the members of Team Arrow were. Caitlin nudged Cisco, and he whispered, "That's so hot, man." The comment earned him several warning looks, but he seemed entirely unconcerned. Caitlin, at least, looked apologetic on his behalf.

"Alright," Sin began, frowning in thought. "Never have I ever smoked." Several people lifted their cups, and Sara gave the girl an approving nod. She felt like a proud parent.

Roy rattled off something trivial that almost started a fight between him and Cisco, but then Thea narrowed her eyes, smirked, and declared, "Never have I ever hooked up with Ollie. Blech." Team Flash looked more than a little confused, but a collective groan rang out from Team Arrow as Laurel, Felicity and Sara all brought their cups to their lips.

"Really?" Barry asked. He turned towards Sara, eyebrows furrowed. "But you're…"

"Bi," she replied firmly. She threw her arms out in melodramatic exasperation, drunkly shoving her hand in Nyssa's face in the process. "I'm bi. Get it right, people. Jeez. We're not fucking unicorns."

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. "Um, you might want to rethink that phrasing, given the context, Sara." The room dissolved into laughter for several minutes before everyone collected themselves and went back to pretending to be adults.

Oliver followed Roy's example with something boring about rollerblading, likely to minimize the number of people who would be mad at him in the morning. Felicity then announced that she'd never worn a mask, and, again, the majority of the group had to drink. "We're such a strange bunch," Felicity decided.

Nyssa peered into her solo cup for several seconds before voicing, "Never have I ever been intimate with a man."

"Hey!" Sara squeaked. "You're not supposed to go after me!"

"I fail to understand your enthusiasm towards a game you cannot win, Beloved."

After a moment of pouting, Sara whirled around and tapped Nyssa's nose with an accusatory finger. "I've got you!" The assassin's whispered _yes, you do_ was missed by her fiancée, who called out, "Never have I ever had the worst. Sibling. Ever." She hesitated to think about this for a moment, then looked at Laurel. "You can take a sip. It won't hurt my feelings. Much."

"No, I can't," Laurel replied. "My sister is too cute and well-intentioned."

Cisco frowned. "I can." He took a long swig. "Worst is an understatement."

" _You_ definitely have to," Sara informed Nyssa. When it looked like the other woman might object, she looked towards Thea, Sin and Roy. "Can we get a consensus on how fucking awful Talia is?" All three nodded fervently. Nyssa finally nodded too and gulped down enough of her drink to make the rest of the group wonder who her sister was and how bad she must be for members of their team to hate her so much.

It was Caitlin's turn, and she was swaying slightly as she said, "Never have I ever given…" She blushed. "No, I can…I can think of something else."

"Just say it, Caitlin," Cisco insisted. "We're all friends here."

"Never have I ever given oral" came out in one compact tumble of words, followed by the clarification, "to a woman."

"Whoomp, there it is," Sara chirped loudly and unabashedly, taking a long gulp from her cup and adding, "I need a refill. So do you," she remarked as Nyssa took a drink. She stood confidently, in spite of the swaying, grabbed Nyssa's cup, too, and skipped over to the pitcher.

Caitlin's discomfort was clearly forgotten as she giggled. Oliver teased, "I guess sometimes the Canary eats the cat, then?"

Sara grinned that particular grin of hers. " _Often_ , I'd say. Especially this m—mmph."

She was silenced by Nyssa, who, with her impeccable reflexes, was up in an instant and had her hand over Sara's mouth. She was blushing furiously and looking fairly tipsy. After a second, she removed her hand and wiped it on her pants. "Lick me all you please. That changes nothing."

"Isn't that the point?" Sara giggled, and Nyssa's face reddened even more. Sara just smiled faux innocently and dragged her fiancée back into the circle. Noticing the mournful stare Barry had directed at his drink, she called out to him. "Really, Barry? Can't you like…do the speed thing?" Barry gave her a half-smile and stuck out his tongue, which quickly turned into a pink blur. Sara blinked, reaching up as if to touch her own mouth. "Man, I would kill for that particular side effect of your powers."

"I–I–I c–can't exactly…use it and risk exposing my _other_ identity," Barry explained.

Sara shook her head, smiling. "Some things are worth it, my friend."

Barry shrugged; the sad expression was mostly gone. Being around people who wouldn't give him a hard time for his powers was nice. "Easy for you to say. You've got someone you can be yourself with. Not that powers are a factor for you guys, but still."

Nyssa interjected, only the slightest slurring revealing her drunkenness. "You assume too much, Mr. Allen. Not all powers are necessarily "super" as you would say. Partnerships of all sorts involve imbalances of power that we must overcome to be better for both ourselves and those of consequence in our lives."

"She's an assassin and a poet, y'all," Cisco whined, shaking his head. "This is why I can't get the ladies. There's too many damn romantics out there stealing the good lines." He looked at Nyssa. "Teach me your ways. Make me a bad boy with a heart of gold. I'll give you my first born in exchange." Around the circle, eyes rolled.

Barry laughed. "I think the Snart in your life is more than enough bad for all of us."

Sara tilted her head questioningly. "What, are you and Leonard pals?"

"Captain Cold? And me?" Cisco spluttered. "Not even a little bit. Like the opposite. He pretty much loathes me for kissing his sister." At the thought of Lisa Snart, his eyes gleamed.

Sin couldn't resist inquiring, "So, Captain Cold's little sister, huh? Thought you were supposed to be one of the smart ones. Have ya taken one too many blows to the head from this crime-fightin' business?"

"I'll have you know," Cisco replied, puffing out his chest and shaking a finger in Sin's direction. "Yeah, it's pretty dumb, isn't it? But it's my turn, so…" He tapped his chin emphatically. "Never have I ever taken someone's virginity."

Oliver squinted. "I don't—"

"If you say you don't know, I swear on everything, I'll leave you," Felicity growled. "I can deal with the fact that you used to be a douchey man-whore, but virginity is not something to take lightly."

"That's not what I…okay." Oliver took a sip, looking like he wanted to crawl into his own skin and hide. Thea took a quick gulp while Oliver was distracted by fear. When Roy saw this, his shoulders relaxed, and he drank as well.

Barry was looking up at the ceiling as if it might hold answers. "She would've told me," he decided, lowering his cup.

Meanwhile, Nyssa looked down at Sara, who hadn't moved.

Sara's eyes widened. "Really? I mean, I knew you were pretty…y'know…but…really?" The blonde looked somewhat devastated. Her shoulders sank and she turned away slightly. "You didn't tell me. You didn't _want_ to tell me."

"I didn't want to seem inadequate," Nyssa replied quietly.

"You weren't! Not even remotely! But, if I had known…" Sara looked like she might be on the verge of tears. "It should've been special. You deserved so much more than…"

Smiling reassuringly, Nyssa grabbed Sara's chin and made her fiancée meet her eyes. "It was perfect. You owe me nothing more, Beloved."

"Yo," Sin piped up. "This is cute an' all, but jus wanted to remind you there's other people here." The teen was curled up against Laurel's side, eyes drooping. "In case that's a concern." Sara stuck out her tongue and threw an empty solo cup at Sin's head. Sin flinched. "C'mon, not the hair!"

"Alright, it's my turn," Barry declared. "Never have I ever been in the mile high club."

Cisco whooped. Oliver and Felicity shared a loaded look and drank, and Oliver rose to refill his cup. Sara fist-pumped and sipped before nudging Nyssa, who looked confused. The Canary giggled and explained, "On a plane. The mile high club is sex on a plane."

"You Americans are too interested in naming your accomplishments," Nyssa replied, taking a gulp of her Moscow Mule.

"Note to self," Laurel declared. "Don't play Never Have I Ever with your little sister."


	3. Queens Make Suitable Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every needs the occasional lazy day and movie night.

The next morning, it was Nyssa who dragged Sara out of the bedroom. Since she’d had a lot less to drink, Nyssa had woken up early enough to do some laundry and read a bit, before finally deciding it was time for the blonde to wake up. She pushed Sara into a chair at the counter and pressed a steaming cup of tea into her hands. “This will help the headache.”

“You don’t have to be so loud about it,” the Canary whined. “I think someone replaced my brain with cotton.”

“Ditto,” Cisco agreed, dragging himself into a chair and gratefully accepting the mug Nyssa extended.

Nyssa scanned the cupboards and quickly found the materials she needed to make breakfast. It was only polite, as a guest, to lend a hand. Plus, she rather enjoyed cooking. It was one of the few domestic activities she excelled at. The smell of toast and bacon quickly attracted more of their friends. Roy walked in with one arm around Thea, comically rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. The pair was immediately presented with tea, as was Caitlin, who appeared shortly after them.

“This is good stuff,” Roy declared and raised his mug to Nyssa. 

Cisco slid out of his chair and crossed the room to stand by the enormous windows that overlooked Star City. He raised an eyebrow. “So, is this where Oliver, like, teaches his son about their kingdom and the circle of life and whatever?”

Nyssa looked at Sara, perplexed. “Do those words mean anything, or does he simply speak to hear his own voice?”

Sara laughed. “Remind me later that we have to watch The Lion King.”

“I love that movie!” Laurel exclaimed, striding in with a fond, sisterly arm around Sin, whom she may well have dragged out of bed, though the teen didn’t look too bothered. Sin rolled her eyes. Laurel hip-checked her and laughed, “You’re going to sprain your eyeballs, kiddo.”

“Ha ha,” Sin intoned, dragging Laurel toward the couch in the living room, where Thea was sitting. 

Sara looked momentarily intrigued, but quickly moved on when Oliver and Felicity trudged in. “Ollie! How ya feelin’?”

Oliver just grunted, accepted a mug, and sank into a chair. After about a minute, the tea seemed to take effect, and he became more aware of his surroundings. “Nyssa, you didn’t have to cook.” 

“It is my pleasure, Oliver. You have opened your home. That is more than enough hospitality.” 

Felicity gazed longingly at the Eggs Benedict Nyssa was preparing. “That looks so good,” she sighed. “But I’m trying to be a better Jew, and bacon…”

“I took that into consideration, Felicity. Smoked salmon is usually a suitable alternative to pork products, if that suits you,” Nyssa replied, holding up a package of lox. Felicity nodded fervently.

No one felt particularly like being formal, so the group just filtered in around the counter and accepted the plates Nyssa handed out. Praise for the delicious food rang out around the kitchen, with Cisco dramatically kissing his empty plate.

Ultimately, the group ended up lounging much like the previous afternoon. This time, Sara was relaxing drowsily with her head in Nyssa’s lap. The assassin had decided that she wanted to expand her knowledge of engineering and technology, so Cisco was patiently teaching her some basic-ish science. Meanwhile, Sara heard what sounded like “venue” from Laurel, Thea and Sin’s huddle, but she definitely didn’t feel like involving herself in that conversation yet.

Sara didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she was rudely woken by her head bouncing on the couch cushion. By the time she was propped up on her elbows, William was in Nyssa’s arms, and her father was smirking. 

“You really know how to pick ‘em, huh sweetheart?” Quentin remarked. “She’s a real softie.” Nyssa glared.

Cisco snickered, “Yeah, Cap, but she can still kill you with her pinky.” 

Smiling, Sara shrugged. “Yeah, she’s too friggin’ adorable.” Which was true. Now that everyone had seen, Nyssa didn’t care about the lightening love bites on her neck, and she’d swept her curls up into a ponytail while working with Cisco. There was a grease smudge on the side of her nose and another above her eyebrow. It was a good thing William’s shirt was black, or it’d probably be grease-stained as well.

Felicity appeared from her office at that moment and grabbed Sara’s shoulder. “Oh, how is your heart not liquefied?” Turning to Cisco, she raised an eyebrow. “If you get grease on my couch, I will hang you upside-down in the basement and let Oliver use you as a punching bag. 

Sara finally sat up, ignoring Cisco’s spluttering. “Alrighty, we’re watching The Lion King now. And this isn’t optional if your name is Nyssa or Sin.” She raised her eyebrow at Sin, who grinned. Maybe they should make Family Movie Night a regular thing. She lifted her head so Nyssa could return to her spot on the couch. This time, she was cushioned by her fiancée’s thigh, and William sat on Nyssa’s lap. Sin bounded over and took up residence on the couch too, curling up over Sara’s feet. 

Quentin shrugged, and he and Laurel sat down on one of the other couches. He grinned at Sara, “Might as well spend some quality time with my family. And family-to-be. Y’know, I took you girls to see this one so many times, I probably know it by heart.” 

“Oh, this is totally going on Facebook!” Thea announced, snapping a picture of the rather unorthodox family.

“Thea, wait!” Sara shouted, bolting upright. “My mom still doesn’t know.” Quentin fished out his phone and tossed it to his daughter, who winced, but dialed and put the phone up to her ear. “This is gonna get emotional, isn’t it?” Sara decided that the best course of action in the conversation with her mother would be to first explain how she and Nyssa met. Then, she elaborated that the whole kidnapping fiasco was pure desperation and loneliness. At that, the assassin huffed in the background. But, as Sara had predicted, her mother couldn’t hold a grudge against someone who was clearly so in love with her daughter. Dinah insisted on taking an immediate trip to Star City to see them.

“Well, Mom’ll be here tomorrow,” Sara informed everyone as she hung up. She snickered, “As she said, she’ll be here in a flash. And she’s going to want to _plan things_. Oh joy.”

“I look forward to the opportunity to make a better impression on your mother, Beloved.” Nyssa stroked Sara’s hair as the blonde laid back against her thigh.

William held up his small hands. “Wait a minute. You,” he said pointing up at Nyssa, “kidnapped Auntie Sara’s mom?” His little eyebrows were furrowed in deep confusion. While he sort of knew the circumstances of Sara and Nyssa’s meeting, he hadn’t exactly been informed of what came after. 

Nyssa combed her fingers through his hair and hummed to buy herself some time. “Well, William, when Sara left, I was truly heartbroken, as you must understand. In my heartbreak, I made some very inadvisable decisions. I believed that the way to convince my beloved to return was to offer, in exchange, the safety of her family. Just as you know that I would do anything to ensure your safety, I knew that she would do anything for her family."

William nodded vigorously. “Dad says people do silly things for love. You love Auntie Sara, so you did something silly. That’s okay. I still love you.”

If someone didn’t know better, they might’ve thought those were tears shining in Nyssa’s eyes as she said, “And I you, William.”

“Okay!” the boy exclaimed. “Let’s watch The Lion King!”

Caitlin dimmed the lights, and Sara started the movie. Oliver appeared with impeccable timing and scooped his son up in an unreasonably funny impersonation of Rafiki. He set William back on Nyssa lap with a grunt, joking, “That’s an old Queen family tradition, you know.” The archer took the left half of the adjacent couch and propped his feet up on the ottoman. 

Halfway through “Circle of Life,” everyone had popcorn, courtesy of Felicity, who carefully stepped over Barry and Cisco to sit with Oliver. She reminded the boys that there was plenty of seating available, but the pair was content with lying on their stomachs on the plush carpet. Honestly, they were like children. When Zazu gave his morning report, Cisco couldn’t help but quote, “The cheetahs are hard up, but I always say, cheetahs never prosper.”

About fifteen minutes in, Sara whispered, “Okay, Scar totally reminds me of Alfred.” Nyssa frowned in thought, and Roy shook his head, but Thea nodded vigorously from her armchair. Maybe they should ask the old butler about his theatrical past next time they found themselves in Gotham. 

At some point, Nyssa leaned down and whispered, “I suppose it’s inappropriate to say the hyena reminds me of Talia…only with more…wit.” Sara’s eyes widened, and she buried her face in Nyssa’s side to stifle her laughter. She ended up being comfortable like that, and might’ve fallen asleep, because she abruptly came to to the sound of Timon and Pumba hula dancing. Which prompted the hope that the world might chill long enough for a honeymoon. Not that Sara was ever exactly in a rush to get on an island, but Hawaii sounded nice. 

The moment the credits started rolling, an insistent Thea was tugging Sara away from her comfortable burrow. Sin followed, and they ended up in Thea’s room, cross-legged on the puffy comforter. “So,” Thea said, clapping her hands on her thighs. This could be a long conversation.

Sara listened quietly to the plan for breaking into CADMUS. It sounded pretty solid, so she gathered that she was only being told because the girls were excited to share this with her. Thea was explaining what they knew about the device they were going to swipe when Sara finally interrupted. “Wait, it has to be used right away?”

“Based on our intel, it doesn’t have much of a shelf life,” Thea nodded. 

“Speedy! We’re not married yet! I may be an assassin and vigilante, but I still want a big white wedding. Bein’ pregnant kinda kills the whole picture of innocence thing.” 

Thea grinned. “Then you’ll have to get hitched soon, huh?” 

“Yeah, like I can make that happen in three months. If you hadn’t noticed, planning is not exactly my strong suit.”

“I could plan it for you, “ the younger girl responded, examining her fingernails with an overly-casual air. 

Sin raised her hand with an eagerness she probably never displayed in school. “I’ll help!” 

Sara examined the pair critically. “Okay, I guess I trust you.” Sin launched herself into Sara’s arms, and Thea threw a fist in the air. 

With that settled, Thea’s expression shifted, and her voice took on a more juvenile tone. “So, what’s it like?”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “What’s what like?”

“Being with a woman. Like, I know some people probably give you a hard time, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” 

With a chuckle, Sara relaxed. “Hard time is an understatement. Some guy at the airport once tried to tell me I needed a man to protect me. I showed him some CCTV footage of Nys taking out six thugs in an alley. It’s pretty awesome to see a dude with neck tattoos cower in fear of my awesome girlfriend.” 

“You have CCTV footage of Nyssa?” Sin asked skeptically.

“The League doesn’t exactly allow cellphones or anything. My best chance at keeping track of her while she was on a mission was hacking into cameras in whatever city she was in. Had to know she was safe. Plus,” Sara said, whipping out her phone, “It’s pretty hot.”

Sin rolled her eyes, and gingerly extracted the cellphone from Sara’s fingers. “Okay, hot stuff. Reel it back in.” When Thea giggled, Sin arched an eyebrow. “It’s significantly less funny when ya have the misfortune of _witnessing_ it. Way too many times.” 

“Aw,” Thea replied, nudging her friend. “I think they’re cute.”

“I’m not talking about the kissing, Thea. But even that does get kinda excessive, Sar.” 

Sara had the decency to blush, but her smile didn’t falter. She fell back against the pillows and threw her arms wide, shrugging. “What can I say? I’m in _love_.”

Thea collapsed beside her and asked, “So it doesn’t get old, then? Like, you guys have been together for, what, like seven or eight years? I mean, minus when you first came home, I guess. But still. I keep wondering when it’s gonna give with Roy. There’s a real shortage of lasting marriages round here. Seems like there’s gotta be a reason so many don’t make it, right?”

“Ooh, don’t bring that up around Nys. My brief, um, well…y’know, with your brother isn’t exactly her favorite topic of conversation. But, to answer your question, no, it doesn’t get old. The main reason is real simple. She’s the person I belong with, forever and always. Just the fact that I stayed with the League as long as I did in the first place proved that. And then, when I heard about the quake and realized I needed to go home, leaving her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not just saying that. I broke both of our hearts that day.

“Which sucked big time. But, to be honest, if normal make-up sex is good…” She mimicked her own head exploding. “Seriously, that first week back was something else.”

Thea gaped, “ _Week?_ Shit, Sara.”

Sin finally dropped the grimace and wedged herself between her two favorite people, folding her hands behind her head. “Y’know, someday Imma have someone, and I’ll make you two understand how miserable this is.” Thea ruffled her hair, earning an indignant squeak. 

“Ha ha, yeah, week," Sara continued. "And I’m sure you know there’s something to be said for the we-almost-died adrenaline. Other than that, I guess mixing things up keeps it interesting.”

“Yo, before you act like some kinda guru, let’s be real for a second, “ Sin interjected. “You’ve both got the whole multiple orgasms thing goin’ for you. I’d call that an unfair advantage.”

Laughing heartily, Sara conceded, “That’s true. Actually, Nyssa hadn’t known that was a thing when we started. She refused to believe me when I tried to explain it. I think she thought I was trying to take advantage.” Sara looked at her friends, who were laughing too, and wiggled her eyebrows. “I spent an entire night proving it to her.”

“Sara Lance, you are a gossip.” 

All three girls sat up to see Nyssa herself, hand on hip, standing in the doorway. The assassin’s lips curled up. “May I join you?” Shortly thereafter, they were resituated, with Nyssa’s chin on her hands, which were folded across Sara’s abdomen.

“I think moments like this are what life’s all about,” Thea said, smiling at the sight of her friends together, safe, and happy—ridiculously so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your feedback, comments, predictions, etc.
> 
> Also, if you didn't catch the reference, Jeremy Irons, the voice of Scar, plays Alfred in Batman V Superman. Should I point out references like this at the end of each chapter, or does no one care?


	4. Burgers and Oysters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara is reminded of what her life involved before the Gambit went down.

By sundown, the Central City group had gone home, and the house was fairly quiet. Sara was starting to get restless, and she could tell Nyssa felt the same, so she collected orders and dragged her fiancée and her sister out to pick up dinner from Big Belly Burger. Laurel drove, because apparently she still hadn’t forgiven Sara for totaling her car in high school. 

Somehow, Nyssa, in deep discussion with Laurel about one of her cases, ended up scoring shotgun, leaving Sara to scowl childishly from the back seat. But the blonde quickly forgot to be annoyed and joined the conversation with the recommendation that the defendant be guillotined. Nyssa seemed inclined to agree, but Laurel reminded them that things worked differently in civilized society. 

As they parked, Nyssa remarked, “Your justice system continues to utilize capital punishment in extreme cases. In much the same manner, the objective of the League was to eliminate the most abhorrent of men and women. Given our superior resources, a trial was not necessary to confirm their guilt. Our form of justice was not so far removed from your own as you might think, Laurel.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” the assistant district attorney replied. She turned off the engine and opened her door, ready to get out. “Maybe it’s too bad the League isn’t around anymore.”

Both Sara and Nyssa looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. Finally, Sara shook her head and started off towards the door of the restaurant, reaching a hand back for Nyssa to take. “I think you need to rethink your priorities, sis. For right now, food can be number one. I’m starving.”

“Beloved, that is rather melodramatic, given that you know the actual pain of starvation.”

Laurel laughed and jogged to catch up with them. “How hard was it to keep this one alive?” she asked Nyssa.

“It was, at times, rather difficult.”

“Hey! I resent that!”

They had taken barely two steps into the building when Sara stopped cold and put her arm out to halt Laurel. She cursed colorfully under her breath, which made Nyssa grimace. “Laur, do you remember Louise Lincoln?” 

“Yeah, she liked to sleep with other peoples boyfriends. Kind of shocking that she never went after Oliver.” Laurel’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wasn’t she the reason you and Nick broke up?”

“Yes,” Sara ground out between gritted teeth. “And she’s here.” Neither Laurel nor a rather uncomfortable-looking Nyssa quite understood the problem, so Sara sighed and explained, “Freshman year, we were at a party. We played spin the bottle, and I had to kiss her…Nys, babe, you’re hurting me.”

Nyssa loosened her grip on Sara’s hand, but continued to seethe silently.

Stroking the back of her fiancée’s hand with her thumb, Sara shook her head, “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t know I was bi, and I wanted nothing to do with her anyway. But she was kinda obsessed, which is why she destroyed a bunch of my relationships in high school. I told her really seriously I was straight, but she kept saying it didn’t matter. And now I’m with you, and if she thinks she was right…I hate her. I hate her so much.”

“If you would prefer, Laurel and I could wait here while you retrieve our food,” Nyssa offered. 

“I have a better idea,” the Canary replied, and she leaned up to whisper in Nyssa’s ear before waltzing up to the counter.

“Sara Lance!”

The voice was neutral, but the familiarity of it made Sara wince. She turned halfway to address the bleach-blonde perched at the counter. Louise wore a tiny blue dress and thigh-high boots. “Louise,” Sara rasped. Her throat had gone dry. Evidently, she could handle greasy men who run trafficking rings but not harmless, if provocatively dressed, women from her past. 

“Darling, how are you? I was absolutely thrilled to hear you weren’t dead. It’s really a shame we haven’t bumped into each other sooner!”

“Yeah, a shame,” Sara whispered venomously, quiet enough that Louise didn’t hear. “I’m fine, thanks. Life’s good and stuff.”

Louise grinned, and it made Sara’s skin crawl. The other woman drawled, “Wonderful! We should exchange info. I’d love to grab lunch and _catch up_ sometime.”

Rubbing the back of her neck in a way that deliberately displayed her ring, Sara replied, “Well, I’m actually not here long. Don’t live in Star anymore.”

“Oh, you’re engaged! Isn’t that surprising. I don’t remember you having much luck pinning down a man,” Louise snickered with a wink. 

Sara forced a smile. “I can promise this’ll stick.” 

“Is that so? Really, you never know. You should always keep your options open, hm? So, who’s the lucky guy, then? Anyone I know?” 

Nyssa chose that moment to exercise her impeccable timing, striding up to the counter and pinning Sara with a look that stoked the fire in the Canary’s heart. She reached out and tucked Sara’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her jawline. “My love, what’s keeping you? I promised Cindy we wouldn’t be gone long.” 

Gratefully, Sara pulled Nyssa in for a quick kiss, which the assassin turned into three, and Sara had to press her away gently, giggling. “It’s not my fault. _I don’t know what’s taking so long._ ” The second part was said loudly and pointedly in the direction of the kitchen.

As she’d hoped, Carly appeared and held out two bags with a grin. “Patience really isn’t a Lance family virtue, is it?” Sara grinned back, and Carly patted her shoulder before flitting off to help another customer.

Louise was staring, a manicured eyebrow arched. “I thought you weren’t into girls?”

“Wasn’t. Then I met this one. It’s a cute story, but we’ve got a hungry kid waiting at home, so I better go.” Sara handed Nyssa one of the bags and intertwined their fingers. Louise started to comment on the latter point, but Sara cut her off. “Adopted. But there are definitely biological ones in our future,” she said, smiling at Nyssa. 

Laurel finally appeared. “Alright, we really have to go. Thea just texted. Hi Louise. Bye Louise.” And, with that, she marched them out the door. 

Once they got outside, the poker faces evaporated. Laurel was smiling broadly, and Sara went so far as to literally jump for joy. Even Nyssa allowed herself a small smile. They were enjoying the minor victory when a voice called out from the alley next to the Big Belly Burger. 

“Hey ladies. Where you off to?” A blond boy, who must’ve been Roy’s age, was leaning against the wall and grinning at them. He wore a black t-shirt and torn jeans. There were two other men with him, but they lingered further back in the shadows, hands in pockets. 

“Home,” Sara responded with a shrug. In her experience, the best way to avoid conflict from a catcall was to be polite.

“Maybe you should stick around. We’d be happy to show you girls a good time,” he suggested, stepping further out of the alley. The other two followed in sync, like puppets, but the one on the left kept his head down. 

Laurel frowned. “We’re fine, thanks. We should be getting back.” 

“What, ya got boyfriends waitin’ or somethin’?”

Sara snorted. “Or something.” 

The boy—really, he seemed so young—raised his eyebrows, and the young man on the right stepped up next to him. This one was a ginger, and he had the thick neck of a gym rat and tattoos across his knuckles. He smirked, “You tellin’ us pretty girls like you are unattached?” 

Nyssa broke her silence with a long-suffering sigh. “It seems men are equally presumptuous in every society. Such narrow-mindedness is your gender’s greatest weakness.”

Acknowledging the blank looks, Sara translated, “That’s a fancy way of saying she doesn’t swing that way. Seriously, sometimes I feel more like an interpreter than a significant other.”

The blond boy’s grin was shifting into a sneer. “Nice try. Y’all are too hot to be lesbians. Not that it woulda changed how this was gonna go.”

Sara sighed and rolled her eyes. “And here I thought we’d met our asshole quota for the day. Never said I was gay. My sister is definitely straight. We’re a walking representation of the spectrum. Would you like a lesson?” 

“Nah, I just wanna bang the teacher.”

“That explains why his grammar is atrocious,” Nyssa quipped. He retorted that this was America, not England or whatever, and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow but didn’t bother correcting him on her ethnicity.

The third boy finally spoke up, though he still kept his head down. “C’mon Beau. Let’s just forget it.”

“Shut up Piper. Stop being such a pussy,” the young man growled. “We’re tryna have fun. A’ight ladies, this’ll be over quicker if ya don’ try to run.”

Laurel snorted, “Does it _look_ like we’re running?” Meanwhile, Sara and Nyssa simultaneously thrust their take-out bags into her arms. The elder Lance sister whined, “You’re really going to leave me out of this?”

After a silent exchange with her fiancée, Sara took the first step forward, still standing casually. The blond—apparently named Beau—looked her up and down approvingly. “So the little one’s got the most guts, huh? Just my type.” He made to grab her, but Sara caught his wrist and swung him flat on his back like a rag doll. 

“No, the little one’s just got less self-control.” 

The broad-shouldered ginger went for Nyssa, who barely had to lift a finger to counter the attack, though she didn’t incapacitate him immediately. In more trivial situations, like this, the assassin had a tendency to play with her food. Sara watched until she was distracted by a string of slurs from Beau, who was standing shakily. He lunged again, and it was so sloppy that she was almost tempted to coach him on his technique. Instead, she delivered blows to a few sensitive areas and pinned him to the wall with her forearm pressed firmly against his throat. In her periphery, she could see Nyssa standing over the other boy, foot planted on his chest. 

With a half-smile, Laurel waltzed over, kicking the brawny one in the ribs as she passed and kneeing Beau when she got close enough. She took their pictures with her phone, then addressed both of them. “Hi, boys. ADA Lance. Nice to meet you. Anyway, in the interest of full disclosure, this city is overrun with vigilantes who do much worse than _this_ to men who harass women. You should probably keep that in mind for the future.” 

“Plus,” Sara chirped, “My daddy’s the captain of the SCPD, and my kid’s best friend owned one of the hottest nightclubs around. Step a toe out of line, and the only bars in your future will be dry and require a uniform.” She pressed her forearm a little harder in warning before starting to walk away from the punk. 

After about three steps, she hesitated and added, “Oh, and it’s the twenty-first century, for fuck’s sake. Stop being a dickwad about sexuality.”

The Canary’s hair fluttered as the ginger soared past her and hit the wall with a thud. Nyssa dusted off her hands and marched over to hiss at both young men, “My father would be disappointed that I allowed you to live. Consider yourselves lucky he is dead.” With that, she pressed at pressure points that left both unconscious. As she walked away, she glanced at the third boy, Piper, who still had his head down. “I suggest that you use this opportunity to find new friends, young man.” 

“Shotgun!” Sara shouted, making a dash for the car and sticking her tongue out as she slid into the passenger seat. The other women followed, and Laurel tossed Nyssa the keys so she could draft some kind of report-file-thing on her phone. Sara was already over it. These days, it took a much higher degree of annoyance to affect her. 

They were already out of the parking lot and on the road when she realized two things. First, she’d been starting at Nyssa for at least a minute. Second, “Wait, Nys, do you actually have a license?” In lieu of response, she received a shrug. 

Laurel reasoned, “It doesn’t really matter. It’s not like we’d press charges. And what cop is going to give Dad’s long-lost-not-dead-baby-girl’s soon-to-be-wife a ticket? Oh, but remind me to follow up on your paperwork, Nyssa. You’ll need that for the wedding to be legal. I’m trying to expedite it.”

Sara twisted around to flash a grin at her sister. “You’re the best.” 

“I must agree,” said Nyssa.

“I know.”

The trio pulled up to Oliver’s to find him, Roy, William, and Sin playing football on the lawn. Quentin sat on the front steps, acting as part referee, part coach. Thea and Felicity were chatting on the porch. The game was quickly abandoned as burgers were passed out. 

“What took you guys so long?” Oliver asked Sara as he took a seat next to Felicity and unwrapped his dinner. 

Sara scowled. “Louise Lincoln.” She was still more upset about that than the boys who tried to assault them. 

“Sara’s catching up on the years of drama she missed,” Laurel explained. 

Checking to make sure William was out of earshot, Sara huffed, “Bitch came on to me, insulted me, and made stupid assumptions. She was the reason high school sucked, and she deserves to be kicked in the face.”

Felicity nodded sympathetically. “I had Karli Bertling. And by had, I mean we went to high school together. But not, like, together-together. I had to walk. She drove a BMW convertible. I wanted a convertible so bad. People in convertibles always look prettier…I think I overshot my point.” 

Oliver laughed, “Just a little. Anyway, Sara, have you guys thought about the future yet? Do you think you’ll be moving back to Star City?” 

“I honestly have no idea. We haven’t had much of a home base for a long time. I guess, if anything, it’s been either here or Nanda Parbat. But now everything’s happening all at once, and we haven’t had a chance to talk about it. Obviously, Nanda Parbat is pretty much deserted, so it’s not really a good place to start a family. But it’s still Nys’s home, and I know it’d be hard for her to abandon it. But it’s not like we can divide our time between two continents with kids, if they’re in school and stuff.” 

“Right,” Oliver agreed, watching her fiancée and his son interact across the yard. Until recently, those were things he never expected either of them to have. He’d never be naïve enough to call this life heaven, but Lian Yu had done them both some good in the long run. “She’ll make a good mother.”

Sara smiled and sighed, “I know. That’s kinda why I’m worried that she’ll agree to something she isn’t happy with because it’s in the best interest of our future family.”

“Given everything, I think you’ll both be happy as long as you’re together. If it makes a difference, though, I’m for team Star City.”

Laurel, Felicity, Quentin and Thea, who were listening to the conversation, all weighed in with their support. 

“I figured,” the Canary replied, reclining in her chair and studying the array of important people in her life. “We’ll talk about it soon. For now, I’m happy…” she trailed off and laughed. 

“What’s up?” Laurel asked.

“I just thought it’s kinda funny. I’m a not-dead, time-travelling, Arabic-speaking, bisexual hero-assassin and college dropout, and it seems like the world is my oyster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little more thoughtful, but the next one will probably be lighter and sillier. Dinah's coming! Fair warning, she might be out of character, because seeing River Song act like such a crybaby makes my skin crawl. It can't hurt to make her a little cooler. 
> 
> References:  
> -Guillotine is both a DC and a Marvel character. Honestly, the Marvel one is cooler.  
> -Louise Lincoln was the second Killer Frost. While the first essentially hated all men, Louise was more inclined to use them as pawns by faking romantic interest. (FYI, Caitlin is the third Killer Frost.)


	5. One Call, Up and Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More awkward questions from William are followed by a visit from a friend. Perhaps everyone should be more mindful of the next generation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> I own nothing. Everything belongs to DC and the CW. Seriously, DC owns my soul.
> 
> It's cute if you think I'm kidding.

“Auntie Nyssa?” William hesitated before tossing the baseball back to her. They were sitting on the grass near the small garden Donna Smoak had insisted on planting by herself for her daughter. Most everyone else was over by the porch, and Nyssa could see Oliver and Sara in deep conversation. She had a feeling they were discussing her, because, even when she wasn’t looking back, she could feel their eyes on her. Still, she had opted to spend more time with William. The peculiar-shaped, brown, so-called ball had baffled her, so William had switched it out for a baseball. _That_ , she recognized because of Sara’s very dramatic love for the sport. 

“Hm?” 

“You’re lesbian, right? ‘Cause you love Auntie Sara.” 

Nyssa was surprised; he’d never seemed to have a problem with the concept before. She just nodded and briefly considered pointing out Sara’s differing sexuality but decided it wasn’t relevant at the moment. 

William paused to rub at dirt on the ball with the edge of his dinosaur t-shirt. “I thought it was the same as how a boy loves a girl, because you kiss all the time and hold hands and do all that stuff the same.” 

“But now you think differently?” the assassin asked, feeling her stomach turn. 

“No.” He said it without any hesitation, tossing the ball. “But can you have sex?” 

Even with her assassin reflexes, Nyssa almost took a baseball to the face. As it was, her jaw was veritably on the ground in shock. Felicity had once mentioned that kids ask strange questions, but Nyssa had hardly been prepared for this. It was certainly not something she’d been aware of at his age. Nanda Parbat was not a place focused on teaching their offspring how to be much more than a weapon. Her first encounter with the mere mention of sex had been at thirteen, when she read the word in a novel. She subsequently gleaned a utilitarian knowledge from books that were neither explicit nor geared to her preference. Until Sara’s arrival, she hadn’t even known there was more to be curious about. 

William was explaining himself. “Because we had to watch this video in health class, and they said sex is something adults do when they love each other. But it only talked about a boy and girl. That doesn’t seem right.” 

Oh, he was a tiny activist. Health class was a phenomenon that Nyssa was vaguely familiar with. Long ago, during the early stages when Nyssa made her beloved explain all her cultural references, Sara had joked, “they definitely didn’t teach us about this in health class.” According to Sara, the curriculum was very heteronormative. 

Nyssa took a breath and finally responded, “Yes, William, sex is an expression of love not limited by gender. I assure you, I have not been robbed of anything. And, while I _very much_ appreciate your concern, this is not quite an appropriate conversation to be having at your age. Shall we make a deal? Do not tell your father that we discussed this, and, when you’re old enough, I will tell you everything you want to know.” 

William nodded, and Nyssa had a feeling she would be held to that promise someday. Then the boy shrugged, “Can have the rest of your French fries?” 

Blinking at the non sequitur, the brunette handed him the greasy bag and chuckled. Children were fascinating. In moments, they were having an entirely different conversation about dinosaurs. William was explaining why it would be sensible to befriend a Stegosaurus if they lived during prehistoric times. 

They were briefly distracted by Thea, who had brought out a set of speakers and was playing a song by a young man—Charlie something, Nyssa thought. Sin remarked, “Isn’t this sorta dumb, considerin’ Superman actually kinda does have our backs?” 

Thea laughed, “But is he only one call away?” 

“Let’s find out,” Sara proposed. “YO SMALLVILLE!” 

There was a whoosh and a crack overhead, and the Big Blue Boy Scout himself landed in Oliver’s front yard. “You called?” 

It was a good thing that Oliver’s place was pretty removed. Lots of secret identities might’ve bit the dust otherwise. Sara grinned. “Wow, that was actually way faster than I expected. Are you _sure_ our boy in crimson can outrun you? What if you soup up your tractor?” 

Superman chuckled, “Yes. He’s quite fast. And only getting faster, I hear. You really need to spend less time with my wife. I can only take so many country boy jokes.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I was actually fairly close, so I overheard the conversation and had a bit of a head start. Hello, everyone, by the way.” 

“Then you really got Charlie beat, huh?” Sin remarked. “We almost didn’t even have to call you.” 

Felicity piped up, “Wait, you could hear us? How close were you?” 

“Central City.” 

Most of the group gawked. Thea, who’d had the most interaction with the Kryptonian hero, was in stitches, wiping away tears and telling him, “That really never gets old.” 

He nodded, smiling. “Lois still hasn’t decided if she loves or hates it. It’s saved her life countless times, but she can’t get away with anything, and that drives her crazy. Speaking of crazy, how are you, Oliver?” 

“Ha ha,” the vigilante intoned, rolling his eyes and standing to shake Superman’s hand. “I’m getting by. I do feel underdressed now, though. How are you, Clark? How’s Jonathan?” 

“He’s great. Adorable. The light of my life. I realize I look like a grinning idiot—Bruce says as much constantly—but I don’t care. His powers have started to develop. Which reminds me…Sara, Nyssa, can I have a word?” 

He pulled them aside to explain that his toddler’s superhearing was starting to come in. At the moment, it was mostly attuned to voices he recognized. “He mentioned hearing you two a few days ago, so I checked, in case you needed help…you were in Metropolis recently, right?” 

The pair blanched. They had stopped there before heading to Star City. “No. Ohmigosh no. You’re kidding right?” Sara, who never got embarrassed, was the color of Barry’s suit. 

Clark—because, at the moment, he looked far more like their friend than the indestructible superhero—smiled softly and assured her, “It’s okay. Not a big deal because he doesn’t understand, and, by the time he does, there will be so much other noise in his head that he won’t notice. I just figured you had a right to know, because I’d want to, in your position.” 

“Why has my life come to either almost getting killed by psychos or worrying about traumatizing my friends’ kids?” 

“Lo thinks it’s absolutely hilarious.” 

Sara sniffed, “Can’t say I agree. How do you two…” 

“Lead-lined doors,” Clark laughed. “Not exactly why we installed them, but it’s a nice bonus.” 

Sara noticed that Nyssa was still looking a little shell-shocked. “Hey, you okay, Nys? …Habibti?” The Arabic got her attention, and she looked down at her fiancée before looking up at Clark apologetically. 

Clark could read the assassin’s thoughts from her expression, and he told her earnestly, “Don’t worry about it Nyssa. It’s really a non-issue. I promise.” Nyssa nodded numbly and walked back to William without a word, and the Man of Steel turned back to the Canary, eyes full of laughter. “But you, Sara, are quite vocal. Did you know I speak Arabic?” 

“Shut up, you jerk,” Sara groaned, playfully pushing his shoulder. He was nice enough to move with her hand. He usually stayed firmly in place, because he was basically a giant boulder of a man. (Alien. Whatever.) He made Oliver look small, which was an insane thing in-and-of itself. Seriously, when they called in the whole squad, Sara felt like the runt of a Chihuahua litter playing with a pack of Great Danes. 

“Oh,” he said, looking off into the distance. “I have to go. Great seeing you. Have a nice night, everyone!” And, with that, he was up and away. 

Sara looked over at her friends. “Felicity, you have a little drool…” 

“Very funny. Don’t even try to act like you’ve never thought it, anyway. I’ve seen you check him out before.” 

“Psh, he’s not my type.” 

Roy protested, “Really? He’s tall, strong, attractive, has dark hair and comes from another world where they have weird names. I feel like that sounds familiar.” 

With an overly sweet grin in Nyssa’s direction, Sara replied cheerily, “My type is a very narrow field, limited to women who identify as Nyssa al Ghul, formerly Heir to the Demon. I have yet to meet anyone who holds a candle to that. No offense, Ollie.” 

“None taken…well, not much taken.”

“Anyway,” said Sara to no one in particular. She walked across the grass and leaned down to snap up the baseball halfway through its arc toward William. After spinning it in her palm, she returned it to the boy. “Hey, Nug, do you mind if I borrow her for a minute?” When the boy gave her a half-nod, half-shrug, she dragged Nyssa across the lawn, up the porch, and into the house, ignoring Ollie’s knowing look.

Nyssa met her gaze with a frown. “What is it Belo—”

Sara swiftly cut her off with an urgent kiss. Pressing her fiancée against the wall with her small but strong frame, she avoided further questioning for at least a minute. Eventually, she let up and explained before Nyssa could even ask, “I’ve just been overthinking since those jerks in the Glades earlier. And we haven’t had enough of this with all the family stuff going on. I miss you. I know that’s dumb, because you’ve been right here all along, but still.”

“I _have_ been right here, my love. And I _always_ will be,” Nyssa replied, leaning in.

Gagging echoed through the room, and the couple glanced over to see one half of Sin sticking out from the fridge. The girl withdrew the rest of her body, several energy drinks and some assorted fruit bundled in her arms. “Could you two _be_ more gross? And shouldn’t you be suiting up? I assumed you’d be patrolling with Team Arrow tonight.”

“Patrolling?” Nyssa questioned with a skeptical look. 

“Yeah, didn’tcha notice that Laurel already went downstairs to change? And Abercrombie’s…" She frowned, apparently realizing she didn't actually know where Roy was. "He's somewhere puttin' on that dumb costume that’s basically the same as what he wears every day, anyway.”

Sara hummed in consideration. “Ollie coming too?”

“Yep,” Sin confirmed, tossing her a banana. “He’s just tuckin’ William in.”

At the small, disappointed sound Nyssa made, the Canary rolled her eyes. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it’s me or the nug.”

“It is always you, Beloved.”

“Yeah,” Sara nodded, peeling the banana. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” She wrapped her mouth around the yellow fruit seductively, causing Nyssa to wrinkle her nose and Sin to just leave the room in exasperation. “What, this doesn’t turn you on, darling?”

“Hardly.”

The shorter woman grinned and rolled her hips against Nyssa’s. “What if I—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” interrupted a pained-looking Quentin. “Least until I get my keys and am halfway home.”

“Daddy!” Sara whined, instantly becoming more like a child than an adult, in spite of the fact that her body was still flush with her fiancée’s. She pulled away reluctantly and hugged her father goodbye, shouting after him, “Love you!” 

Once he was out of sight, Nyssa dragged her to their room, and Sara raised an eyebrow but was sorely disappointed when the assassin tossed her the Canary costume and started changing into her own battle gear. However, she didn’t miss the way Nyssa’s gaze lingered as she tugged on the leather, so she made a show of sighing and sweeping her hair over her shoulder to ask, “Can you zip me up?” She could sense the eye roll but relaxed at the press of Nyssa’s fingers against her bare skin. 

“Don’t even pretend you don’t like it,” laughed the blonde.

“I do,” Nyssa agreed. “But perhaps I shouldn’t have supported such a distracting outfit. What are you smiling about, Beloved?” She quirked an eyebrow while pulling on her own tight pants. Her oufit wasn’t remotely as revealing as the Canary’s, but the process was a bit more involved than Sara’s quick-change, so Sara had the lovely opportunity to watch her put it on. 

“I was just thinking how well we’ll sleep tonight.”

“Oh?… _oh_.”

Felicity’s voice cut them off. “Okay, everybody! Come get comms!”

“We’ll come back to this, obviously,” Sara giggled with a wink.

  


Within twenty minutes, they encountered some small-time drug dealers. The first was walking around outside on his phone, insisting that his partner email him some spreadsheets and delivery updates. He was average height, not very muscular, and balding, and he gestured emphatically with his hands. In the middle of his speech, he looked up to see Sara perched above him on the fire escape. “Shit, Joey, the Black Canary’s here. Man, you gotta send me some backup ASAP. I—”

“Just the Canary, thank you very much,” Sara informed him as she hopped down and landed on his hand with a sickening crunch. 

The man’s shout alerted two nearby bodyguards, who started to approach from different sides, guns drawn. “Sara, I’ve got your six, but there’s an armed guy coming at you from the right,” Oliver warned as he swung down from the sky. 

With a nod, Sara moved for the other guy, but Nyssa quickly pinned him to the fire escape with a few arrows. The Canary rolled her eyes. “I had that perfectly under control.”

“I’m aware, habibti. But so did I.” 

“Lance,” came John Diggle’s voice over the line. “You better take the guy by the docks. See if you can get his phone.”

“You know,” Felicity hummed, thoughtfully. “You go by an awful lot of names, Sara. For a person trained under the idea that “a man cannot live by two names,” right?”

“Well, I had to maintain my reputation as the girl who defied Ra's al Ghul, didn't I? Besides, I was trained under something else,” Sara snickered, tossing the phone she had snatched to Dig. “Or _someone_ else.”

"How on-brand of you," Laurel remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

They handled the rest of the operation with practiced ease, and, soon enough, Sara found herself on the bed, flat on her back, very pleased that Nyssa seemed to have understood her meaning. Maybe it wasn't such a rough day, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter! I'm on summer break now, so I might be writing more, or I might be writing less. Hard to say. Anyway, thanks to everyone who is reading this and especially anyone who is commenting! You guys are all great!
> 
> References:  
> I don't think there are any, but I wrote half of this a few weeks ago and half late last night after going out. There might be something I forgot about. Let me know if you see anything!


	6. Hello, Sweetie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Nyssa take a big (hopeful) step on the morning of Dinah's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously, I own nothing. Rights belong to DC and the CW
> 
> Okay, so it's been longer than I planned. Sorry! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but it's pretty long, so there's that. I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Also, FYI, Sherwood Florist is the flower shop owned by the original DC comics Black Canary, Dinah Lance.

Sara woke first the next morning, which was unusual but seemed to be happening more and more frequently. For a while, it had seemed like Nyssa—or at least her subconscious—was still afraid Sara might disappear again. But lately things had shifted, and the Canary definitely wasn’t complaining about the reestablished trust. 

That particular morning, she had a lot she wanted to get done, but she put it off for a couple minutes, lying in bed with Nyssa curled up to her side, running her fingers through dark hair and wondering how to ensure that her mother wouldn’t hate one of the most important people in her life. Finally, she resigned herself to getting up and carefully slipped out of bed. She kept an eye on Nyssa as she got dressed, watching her breathe—partly to check that she was still asleep and partly because doing so was relaxing. 

She padded into the kitchen wearing dark jeans and a fitted, short-sleeved, black button-up and joined Oliver in waving goodbye to William and Felicity, who were headed to school and work, respectively. Once they were gone, she leaned her chair back on two legs and remarked, “Okay, I kinda forgot that the nine to five was a real thing for some people. And school. Totally forgot what it was like to go to school.” 

Oliver laughed. “Yeah, we never really did the grind, did we?” 

“Speak for yourself. The League is no picnic. There were times I woulda done unspeakable things for a recess break.” Sara let all four chair legs fall back to the ground and hopped up to get a bowl of sugary cereal. 

“What, you couldn’t use your status to get away with stuff?”

“Pft, in Nanda Parbat the only perk you get from boning the Heir is not being immediately killed if you ever fuck up… Well, the only perk besides the whole ‘boning the Heir’ bit.” 

Oliver squinted at her. “I feel like boning isn’t the right word, considering you’re a girl…”

With a grin, Sara waved him off, snickering, “Shows how much you know, Queen.”

“What I know is that you took too long to lock it down, Lance. What kind of idiot walks away from that? At least one of us had some sense,” he teased.

“Hey, don’t forget—you might’ve married her first, but she actually likes me.”

“Yeah, why did she hate me but love you so much? I thought I was supposed to be the personable one.”

“Mhm, ‘s ’cause I have a magic tongue,” Sara insisted through a mouthful of cereal. It seemed more milky than magic at the moment. 

Smirking, Oliver shot back, “Really? Because it seems to me like it’s always getting you into trouble.” 

“If getting into trouble also means it’ll get me into Nys’s pants, I can live with that.” She paused to swallow her breakfast. “And I’d say green isn’t your color, but wouldn’t that be ironic? And I know you’re not jealous anyway, because you’ve got Felicity.” 

“Yeah, she’s something else, huh?” Oliver said. “And don’t tell her I said so, but _damn_.”

Sara laughed loudly. “You know, it’s funny that people think you’ve changed. You’ve grown up, but you’re still a frat boy at heart. But so am I, so growing up won’t stop me from saying,” her tone shifted to something silly and mimicking. “My girlfriend is totally hotter than yours. _No ‘ffense, bruh._ ”

“How frat can we be?” Oliver hummed. “ _The better you dress, the worse you can behave._ Ha, I totally lived by that one.” 

Sara laid on the charm. “ _Hey, beautiful._ AKA this is the text I send to every damn girl on my phone.” 

“ _I’m too sober for this._ ”

“ _No homo._ ”

“Says the queer,” Oliver laughed as Sara, who was failing at pretending to be annoyed, swiped at his arm. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Thea asked. 

From her chair, Sara tilted her head all the way back, to look at Thea upside-down, and evenly explained, “We’re trying to out-frat each other.” 

Shaking her head and grabbing the cereal box from beside Sara’s half-empty bowl, the younger girl sighed, “You two are so weird.” She poured her own bowl and sat down before seeming to remember something. “Oh, and this is for you, Sara. Picked it up last night.” She dangled a CADMUS-branded test-tube in front of Sara’s nose. 

“Where’s the machine thingy?” the blonde asked, snatching the glass tube and pushing away from the table. When Thea pointed toward the hall bathroom, Sara went without another word. 

Thea fixed her brother with a look. “Don’t let this get out. Like, definitely don’t let Cisco find out. I refuse to be rebranded as ‘the Stork’ or something ridiculous like that.”

About three minutes later, Sara reappeared. “Just so you guys know, that was a super weird experience.” 

“What was weird?” Nyssa asked.

The blonde took one look at the assassin, who was in the doorway, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her hand, and dragged her to the bathroom. 

“Thea?”

“Yeah?” she replied with her mouth full.

Oliver huffed, “Your manners are as bad as Sara’s.”

Pointedly, Thea rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Ollie?”

“Was Nyssa wearing shorts just now?”

“Holy shit.”

Nyssa’s voice echoed down the hall, “I can hear you, you know. I—hmph, that’s cold!”

“Well, if I survived, you can deal with it, too,” came Sara’s muffled reply. 

Eventually, Sara and Nyssa returned. The blonde looked pleased, but the brunette still just looked exhausted. She was, in fact, wearing pajama shorts and an oversized Rockets tee, which was a first for the Queen siblings to witness.

Sara returned to her chair, pulled Nyssa into her lap, and resumed eating her breakfast with one hand, wrapping the other arm around Nyssa’s waist. The assassin nuzzled into Sara’s neck and closed her eyes. Oliver caught himself noticing how cute the pair was and wondered when he and Nyssa had reached the point of almost-friendship where a thought like that could occur to him. 

He shook that off and plowed ahead, looking at Sara. “So, I was thinking, it might be helpful for you guys to pick up William after school. It’s on the way back from the station where you’re picking up your mom. It’d make my life a lot easier.”

What he didn’t say was that it might help things for Dinah to see how Nyssa was with William, but Sara got the message and tried to convey her appreciation in her tone. “That sounds great, Ollie. We’d be happy to.” At Thea’s quirked eyebrow and nod toward Nyssa, she grinned and murmured, “Yeah, she’s asleep. Yesterday was a long one. But…” Sara kissed Nyssa’s temple, gently nudging her. “Hey, I love you, but you’re gonna wrinkle my shirt, babe.” 

Nyssa didn’t move. “Since when do you care about such things, Beloved?”

“Since I’m trying to do everything I can to make sure my mom likes you.” 

“That’s today?” Nyssa straightened up, eyes wide.

Sara giggled and looked over at Oliver and Thea. “A contraction! I think I broke her.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, I definitely broke her,” Sara laughed, threading her fingers through her fiancée’s hair and smirking, “That was eloquent, Nys.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes but didn’t bother responding. Conversation halted for a few minutes while Sara and Thea finished their cereal, Oliver typed out a few emails on his phone, and Nyssa ignored Sara’s request not to wrinkle her shirt. It was silent until Sara got a mischievous twinkle in her eye and snuck careful fingers under Nyssa’s shirt to grope her with cold hands. The assassin squeaked and leapt off Sara’s lap, displeasure written all over her face.

Oliver and Thea did their best to stifle laughter as Sara commanded, “As fucking adorable as this look is on you…” She reached out and drew a thumb across a sliver of exposed hipbone, ignoring Nyssa’s crossed arms. “I have things I want to get done today, so I need you to either get some more sleep or get dressed.” 

“I’ll be back shortly,” Nyssa replied, stretching an arm over her head as she left the room. 

Sara twisted around to watch her go. She turned back with a small smile and said, “Ooh, last one: _hold my beer; I’m about to do something stupid._ ”

“Okay, that was a hell of a role reversal,” Oliver chuckled. “Big plans for today?”

Thea’s hand shot out, and her eyes flickered to the hall bathroom. “Hold on. Sara, what did you guys do with the…genetic…you know? Did you…?”

“Yeah. Then the rest is in that freezer thing. Supposedly, it should be fine for a couple of years. But we’ll know if it works in two weeks, I guess. Trying not to think about it too much. Avoid getting my hopes up and stuff, y’know?”

Oliver nodded. “Will your mom notice if you’re not drinking?”

“Shit.” Sara blanched. “Would—no… No, we’re going for lunch. And Laurel will be at dinner, and she won’t be, so it–it shouldn’t be too weird. Right? This is nerve-wracking enough without my mom catching on. And I have no idea how to explain why I might be pregnant. With Nyssa’s kid.”

Thea immediately agreed, “Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need to figure out a good cover story.”

“Ollie, do you think Lis would be able to come up with a convincing fake website for some kind of science facility?”

“In her sleep, probably.”

Scrubbing a hand over her face, Sara huffed. “Of course she can. And she’d love it. I don’t deserve friends like you guys.”

“Yeah. Right,” grunted Thea. “I’m just the saint who literally killed you.”

Sin marched into the room. “Yo. That’s enough self-pity from both of ya. Whatcha got planned today, Sar?” 

The blonde proceeded to run through her to-do list. Her priority was getting a car. They’d driven a rental to Starling, and she did have a bike, but it was time for her to make an investment in a vehicle better suited for a family. When Sin asked if she would be allowed to use the car, Sara decided that they might have to look into a second in the near future. That would only happen after another thing on her list: talk to Nyssa about their options in this whole settling down business. On a lighter note, she figured they needed some more normal-people clothes. Not that she didn’t like black, but she figured her wardrobe could use some color. And she was kind of dying to play dress-up with Nyssa.

“So,” Oliver said, a glint in his eye. “What kind of car are you thinking about?”

Sara propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Well, the new Tesla sounds fun. The Model X?”

At first, Oliver just laughed. Then he tilted his head, frowned, and studied her expression. Finally, he asked, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Sure, why not?” Sara shrugged. “It’s got all that safety tech—automatic emergency braking and shit—plus all-wheel drive, plenty of seating, and it’s electric. We’ve done enough damage to the world; I’ll do what I can for the environment. Oh, and that friggin’ autopilot capability. Like, how sick is that?” 

“Do you…so you have that kind of money?” He had evidently missed that memo.

“Me?” Sara laughed. “I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it, but, yeah, I’m like…par with the Queen glory days, I guess. Definitely more than enough to allow myself some luxuries. Regarded League members got nice bank accounts. But Nys…”

Sin cut in, “Ima’s seriously loaded.”

“Come on, Sin. You know that freaks her out.” Sara barely made it through the sentence without laughing. 

“Why do you think I do it?” The teen explained to their friends, “Ima means mom in Hebrew. Which is the closest thing I know to Arabic. Found one of those Rosetta Stone sets when I was like ten, an’ thought it was a video game, so I actually learned a bunch.” She looked down at her watch. “Damn, Thea, we gotta go. Dick is gonna be so mad if we’re late.”

In a scrambling whirl, the girls were out the door, leaving Sara and Oliver alone again. They shifted into small talk: the weather and the Rockets and TV. It occurred to Sara to ask for advice on where to go for lunch. Oliver scrawled an address on a post-it and told her to use his name. It was then that Nyssa returned, wearing black jeans and a gray sweater. Sara met her halfway and wrapped her in a hug. 

“Sorry,” Sara whispered.

“Don’t be. I was acting childish,” Nyssa sniffed dismissively.

“You smell good.” 

“I showered. Didn’t you have things you wanted to do?”

Oliver took the opportunity to offer his car for the day. He bit back a laugh at Nyssa’s confusion when Sara said, “Come on, loser. We’re going shopping.” He made a note to add Mean Girls to the list Felicity was keeping of pop culture that Nyssa needed to be filled in on. Apparently, Sara’s short attention span prevented her from introducing her fiancée to too much of that stuff. 

“Later, Ollie!”

“Have fun!”

On the way to the Tesla dealership, Sara brought up post-marriage relocation, and Nyssa immediately proposed Star City. Sara didn’t want it to be so definitive, though, so she pushed for some kind of compromise. The whole conversation was somewhat ironic, considering. They ultimately agreed on living in the States and spending a good part of the summer in Nanda Parbat. 

As they pulled in to the parking lot of the dealership, Sara mused that it felt like Christmas for adults. Immediately upon stepping through the door, they were greeted by an effusive man with dark blond hair and a strong jawline. He talked as much with his hands as with his mouth, which sparkled with ultra-white teeth. Sara didn’t want to stereotype, but she half expected him to spontaneously emit glitter, and it made her that much more confident in her own skin. She waited with barely-contained excitement as he filled Nyssa in on the technical details and features that she’d already all but memorized. 

“The autopilot convenience features are my personal favorite,” the salesman, Brent, was saying. “If you aren’t sure about it now, that can always be added on later, but you get a better price if you purchase it with the car.” 

Nyssa pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I am partial to the more immediate option. I assume the software is far less likely than Sara to become distracted.” 

“Hey!” Sara pouted, putting her hands on her hips, much to the amusement of Brent. “I’m not a bad driver.” She addressed the other blond. “She’s kidding. Humor’s just not her forte.” 

“That’s hardly—” Nyssa started.

Sara rolled her eyes. “Fair? Is it? Correct me if I’m wrong—and I know you will—but I’m pretty sure the last “joke” you made was when you said, “heads will roll” after Budapest, and you didn’t entirely mean for that to be funny.” She shrugged, the corners of her mouth quirking up. “You’ve got much better things going for you. Besides, too much funny can drive a person insane.” 

“Okay,” Brent said, looking them up and down. “You two are _adorable_. How long have you been together?” 

“Eight years?” Sara drew out the syllables of the number, trying to pinpoint an exact start to their relationship with some difficulty. Not only was time a little vague in Nanda Parbat, but they also kind of happened gradually over the first couple of months.

Nyssa tilted her head. “That sounds accurate.”

Brent chuckled. “Like I said. Adorable. And marriage is legal now, so…” 

“We _know_ ,” Sara gushed with a grin, holding up her left hand to show off the glittering hardware on her ring finger.

He slapped a hand over his heart. “Oh…my…lanta.” Sara giggled, and Nyssa didn’t bother asking for an explanation. “So, we better get you going on a test drive, then! I’ll let you take it out a little longer than usual, as congratulations,” he whispered conspiratorially, walking them out to the parking lot. 

“It feels like Christmas and my birthday,” Sara said, getting into the driver’s seat. Buckling her seatbelt, she reached over to Nyssa, who sat in the passenger seat, and patted her knee for no reason other than that she wanted to. She squeaked as the rear, falcon wing doors opened. 

“I know, right?” Brent said as he slid into the backseat. 

Nyssa agreed, “It is rather impressive.” 

Sara beamed. “Just wait,” she said, shifting into drive.

Being able to pay in cash for a car was probably the most satisfying thing Sara had experienced in her life as a responsible adult. The car wouldn’t actually arrive for several weeks, because it had to be customized with their paint color, interior, and features. But knowing that they could afford it made pricing out the car and add-ons a slightly different process. 

Then they got to the part where Brent asked for a full name and hesitated when she gave it. Sara immediately felt like a fuck-up without even knowing why; it’s not like he could possibly know how much blood she had on her hands. Then he asked, “Like Laurel Lance?”

With a sigh of relief, Sara breathed, “Yep, she’s my big sister.”

He smiled. “She helped my little sister out big-time back in the day. Tell her thanks for me?”

“For sure.”

They talked about logistics for a bit, until it got close to when they had to pick up Sara’s mom. Sara and Nyssa left, showering Brent in goodbyes and thank-yous on their way to the door. Sara let her fiancée drive, since her fingers were twitching from the energy coursing through her veins. 

When they pulled up in front of the station, Sara did a quick sweep of the waiting travelers. Not seeing her mother, she reached over, curled her fingers at the nape of Nyssa’s neck, and dragged the brunette in for a deep kiss. “Just in case,” she breathed, pulling away. 

“In case?”

“In case…” Sara sighed. “I don’t know. In case she hates you. Or me. Or this generally just doesn’t go well. In case she finally realizes that I deserve to be punished, not praised, for what I did to our family. Just…in case.”

With a hand pressed to Sara’s cheek, Nyssa whispered a little breathlessly, “I will punish you however you like later, should you agree to kiss me like that whenever you feel the impulse.”

Sara’s signature grin returned. “Screw propriety?”

“Screw propriety,” Nyssa agreed. “Now, I believe your mother is waiting.” 

The blonde’s eyes widened, and she leapt out of the car, rushing over to hug Dinah. She took her mom’s luggage, struggling ever so slightly while lifting it into the trunk so as not to seem stronger than someone of her size should be. As she climbed back into her seat, she was saying, “So we just have to swing by the school and pick up Ollie’s son, William, and then I was thinking we could try this restaurant, Sherwood. Have you heard of it?”

“Hm,” Dinah hummed thoughtfully. “It sounds vaguely familiar.”

Nyssa twisted around in the driver’s seat to look at the woman who brought her Beloved into this world. She owed this woman everything. That was quite a bit of pressure. “Professor Lance, it is…uh…I am grateful for the opportunity to meet again under…better circumstances. Please allow me to sincerely apologize for my previous behavior.”

Somewhat thrown by Nyssa’s entirely out-of-character stutter, Sara put a comforting hand on her knee and directed hopeful blue eyes toward her mother, who nodded and accepted Nyssa’s outstretched hand. The handshake was short and uneasy, but it was a step in the right direction. 

“It’s alright,” Dinah replied, sounding as though she, herself, had only just decided that it was. “I suppose I’m glad my daughter has someone willing to…fight that hard for her.”

“Your daughter means more to me than I could ever possibly express.”

“She deserves nothing less,” Dinah replied, still hesitant but agreeable.

Nyssa nodded solemnly. “That, she does.”

“Okay,” Sara cut in. “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not here? Nys, we need to go if we want to be on time for the nug.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “So it’s a half day?” 

“Yeah, which is totally ridiculous, in my opinion. Why bother having the kids come in at all, if you’re gonna send them home at noon? I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Sara remarked, propping her feet up on the dash as they weaved through light traffic. “I know teachers have a very important job, and they work really hard and stuff, but they’re not exactly working such long hours. Plus, there’s all the federal holidays and vacations and all of summer. How much more time off do they need?”

“This from someone who has never worked a real job,” Dinah replied.

“Actually, I was a trainer for a while,” her daughter countered.

Nyssa scoffed. “Your definition of training was promising candy to any student able to strike you.” 

“I stand by that technique.”

“And I preferred it when our dinner was not constantly interrupted by small humans attempting to launch a surprise attack.”

Sara smirked at how Nyssa described the League children. “Careful, babe. You’re starting to sound like me.”

They took a left, and the school came into view. Dinah cooed, “Oh, Sara, I remember dropping you off here. It feels like just yesterday you were in pigtails and those pink sneakers.” 

“Pigtails?” Nyssa echoed skeptically. 

Her baby girl was a comfortable topic, and Dinah gushed, “You have to see the pictures. She was absolutely adorable.”

“She still is.” Some of the tension in Nyssa’s shoulders unknotted with the ease of common ground. “And I’d certainly love to see those photos.”

“Ugh,” Sara grimaced. “If you’re going to torture me, middle school is off limits. Seriously, Mom. No braces.” 

“But…” 

“Mom, I swear to every relevant deity, if you show my fiancée that picture of me with headgear, I will never speak to you again.” 

Dinah held up her hands in surrender, but Sara didn’t trust her at all. She texted her father that his relationship with his future grandchildren depended on him hiding all the pictures of her aged eleven to fourteen. Her dad would have her back, at least. And there were no camera phones back then, so she didn’t have to worry about Laurel. 

Nyssa parked in the pick-up line and hopped out of the car, braving the chaos of tiny children and soccer-moms to find William. Sara twisted around again to face her mother. “Thanks,” she said. “Y’know, for not treating her like a monster.” 

“Sweetie, I’m your mother. It’s my job to make sure you and your sister are happy, regardless of how I feel.” 

Sara’s insides twisted. “I promise, she means well. Like, I know that might be hard to believe because of what happened, but that’s all my fault. I fucked up, and—” 

“Sara,” Dinah interrupted. “I know. We’ve all done rash things under duress. It’ll take some getting used to, thinking of the woman who locked me in a warehouse and your fiancée as the same person. But it’s far from the strangest thing our family has been through.” 

“Sorry. Thank you. I don’t deserve you.” 

“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You should thank your sister, though. Laurel has been using every opportunity to talk about “how great Sara’s girlfriend is” for months now. I’m assuming she means Nyssa?” 

The Canary nodded vigorously. “Definitely. She’s my one and only.” 

Dinah smiled. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.”

By the school door, William and Nyssa had found each other, and Nyssa swung the boy’s dinosaur backpack over her shoulder while he chattered animatedly. He climbed into the car with the grace of an elephant, and stared at the stranger in the back seat. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Dinah Lance, Sara’s mother. You must be William. It’s nice to meet you.” 

After a beat, William announced very matter-of-factly, “You look more like Auntie Laurel.”

Dinah chuckled. “So I’ve been told. You look like your father did when he was your age.” 

“Really? Cool,” William said, sounding pleased. He buckled his seatbelt, and Nyssa shifted into drive. The attention to safety didn’t escape Sara or her mother. 

Checking her surrounding diligently as she backed out, Nyssa asked William what he learned in school that day. The drive to Oliver’s was spent hearing about long division and the Boston Tea Party. When they pulled up in front of the house, the boy gave Nyssa a quick hug, fist-bumped Sara, and waved at Dinah before scrambling out of the car and dashing inside. 

“He seems like a good kid,” the elder Lance said, studying the house. 

Sara nodded, handing Nyssa her phone with the directions to the restaurant pulled up. “He is. You can bet he’ll be nothing like Ollie. Well, the douchey version, anyway.” She reached over to absently fiddle with the edge of Nyssa’s sweater. 

“William is very bright,” added Nyssa. She slapped Sara’s hand away. “Do not distract me while I am driving, Beloved.” 

Sara rolled her eyes and shifted her full attention to her mother, asking about life in Central City. She nodded along to descriptions of the course she was teaching that semester and pretended not to be disappointed that her mother was happy with someone other than her father. And if she was amused by mentions of the Flash, she kept that to herself. 

At the restaurant, they discovered that Oliver’s name meant a more private table in the back, where the menus were leather-bound and the flower centerpieces were real and vibrant. The blonde sighed. “Of course. I don’t suppose being an al Ghul comes with any fringe benefits like this.” They sat down at a square table with Nyssa to Sara’s right and Dinah across from them.

Nyssa huffed out a laugh, nudging Sara’s elbow off the table. “You are well aware that it does not.” 

“What’s the point of having money if you don’t get special treatment?”

Dinah raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

Wiggling the fingers of her left hand, Sara smirked. “Well, we’re not exactly struggling.” 

Wide-eyed, Dinah examined the ring. “Oh, it’s beautiful. I didn’t even think to ask. I’m sorry, sweetie.” Then she looked up and scolded, “You could’ve told me you were stable. I’m your mother; I do worry about those things.” 

“Oh, um. Yeah, sorry. We’re definitely more than solid. Like, if you ever need anything…” Sara trailed off. 

The waiter arrived to take their orders, and he stood frustratingly close to Nyssa the whole time. The brunette ordered salmon, either oblivious to or ignoring the extra attention. Her irrationally jealous fiancée ordered chicken parmesan through gritted teeth, and Dinah requested the Caesar salad. 

As he walked away, the professor remarked, “You can do that over the table, you know.” 

“Sorry?” Nyssa questioned over Sara’s “what?”

“Hold hands.” 

They stared at her as though it had never occurred to them. Then they jointly shrugged and set their interlocked hands on the table between them. Sara smiled. “I guess we spent too much time in places where women are treated very differently. This is nice,” she said, weaving their fingers together. 

“Yes,” Nyssa agreed, looking to Dinah. “My home had a rather…limited perspective on many things.”

Dinah asked the seemingly innocent question, “Where are you from again?” and Sara squirmed uncomfortably. 

“A city in the Middle East. You are not likely to know of it, as it is too small for any maps. We were not a recognized nation but were sovereign nonetheless.” 

“Were?” 

Nyssa looked away for a second, an indistinct emotion flickering across her face. The expression on Sara’s was much more readable, and she gave her mother a subtle shake of her head. It all happened in an instant, but, by the time Nyssa turned her head back, Dinah had gotten the picture and rerouted the conversation. 

She went into Professor Mode, since Nyssa was clearly pretty well-educated. “Do you travel much? Greece is my area of expertise, but I haven’t seen nearly as much of the world as I’d like to.” 

So they ended up in deep conversation about different cultures. At some point, Sara had hooked her foot around the leg of Nyssa’s chair and dragged it closer. By the time their food arrived, Sara’s right leg was crossed over Nyssa’s left. They had stopped holding hands so Sara could pick up her water, so, instead, Nyssa’s right palm rested on her fiancée’s knee. Fortunately for Sara, Nyssa’s meal didn’t require use of a knife, so the hand over her knee stayed in place as they started to eat. 

Without discussing it, or even looking at each other, the pair speared their second bites and swapped forks. Sara frowned, swallowing the bite of salmon. “Hm. Good, but not nearly as good as your cooking.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes. “Flatterer.”

“Hey, ‘s not my fault you’re amazing at everything.”

Scrunching her nose, Nyssa replied, “You should stop saying that. Someday, you will find yourself disappointed that it is not true.”

“Nope,” said Sara. “I’ve diligently gathered evidence. The only thing you’re not good at is taking a compliment.” She patted Nyssa’s leg, and was about to get back to the conversation she’d interrupted when the waiter showed up to ask how their meals were. So, instead, her hand stilled on Nyssa’s thigh. It had landed pretty high, since her own leg was taking up a lot of real estate, and she inched her warm palm a little further up, to what probably (definitely) tripped the line into indecent territory. 

Nyssa face revealed no change, but Sara could sense the immediate tension in her body. It occurred to the blonde, belatedly, that her suggestively placed hand might’ve been misinterpreted. In actuality, she’d caught the waiter taking notice of the lack of space between their chairs. She knew the view he’d get when he reached across to grate parmesan onto her chicken, and she wanted there to be no question that she was marking her territory. Making the love of her life mildly uncomfortable was a nice bonus, though. 

Suppressing the flare of jealousy as the waiter, who was reaching out with the cheese grater, glanced at Nyssa’s chest, she drummed her fingers lightly, and Nyssa squirmed the tiniest bit. To her supreme satisfaction, the man’s smile faltered, becoming much less self-indulgent when he asked if they needed anything else before walking away. Sara ignored the look Nyssa was giving her, removed her hand, and went back to eating her lunch. If she weren’t distracted by being so pleased with herself, she might’ve seen the revenge coming. 

Casually, Nyssa asked about the plans for dinner. Dinah replied, “I think we’re going to Laurel’s. I’m pretty sure Quentin will be there, and I can only hope he will be doing the cooking.” Sara snickered at that.

“Beloved, will Sin be joining us?” 

“Dunno,” Sara said with a shrug, still distracted. 

Dinah’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who’s Sin?” 

Through a mouthful of food, Sara responded, “My kid.” Her fork was halfway to her mouth when she realized what she’d said and froze. “Shit.” 

Dinah’s eyes were wide and her jaw slack. Apparently, she wasn’t even sure where to begin in forming a response. 

Sara winced apologetically. “Um, surprise?” There were several beats of silence before she added, “Not biological, by the way. She’s seventeen and adopted.” 

Her ever-amazing fiancée rescued her. “Sara met Sin’s father several years ago, shortly after the Queen’s boat sank and shortly before the man’s death. Sin’s mother died when the girl was very young. Without your daughter, she would probably be a very lost soul.” 

“You have a…a daughter?” Dinah whispered. 

“Yeah,” Sara said. “I know it’s weird, but yeah.” 

Dinah squinted at her own daughter and finally said, “You better not have told your father before me.” Sara hung her head, and her mother sighed. “This is what I get for living in another city.” 

“You will be the first to know next time,” Nyssa promised. 

“Is that something you’re planning on?” 

Sara glared at Nyssa. “Maybe. Yes. But no one should get their hopes up.” 

Her mother could tell that there was more to it, but she let it go, choosing instead to mention that she’d started taking spin classes. At that, Nyssa lit up and Sara groaned. The melodramatic noise of disapproval was followed by Sara’s firm declaration that she hated spinning. 

“You literally just sit there on an uncomfortable little excuse for a seat and flail your legs around for an hour, and you don’t even get to go anywhere. It’s so _boring_ ,” Sara whined. “I hate everything about it.”

Dinah’s eyes went to Nyssa, who was looking at Sara with one eyebrow raised in subdued amusement. It was no secret that the woman was in incomparable physical condition. Nor was Sara’s acute awareness of that fact very subtle. Her daughter had no reservations about staring, and the look on her face was something akin to religious devotion. Clearly, Sara at least appreciated the results of Nyssa's exercise of choice. Dinah laughed. “Are you sure about that sweetie? There’s _nothing_ you like about spinning?”

“No, I’ll stick to running outside, in the fresh air. And the salmon ladder,” Sara smirked. Her mother didn’t know what a salmon ladder was, but it was clearly meant to get a reaction. 

Nyssa’s smile held the utmost confidence as she suggested, “I do not believe that is what your mother meant, Beloved.”

“Mom!” Sara exclaimed disapprovingly. “Come on. I get enough crap from Laurel and Ollie as it is. Anyway, I can’t compromise my position now,” she huffed proudly. 

Dinah shook her head, chuckling at her stubborn daughter. Nyssa offered, “What if I were to admit my opinion of the salmon ladder?”

“Ha. I don’t need to hear you say it to know what you’re thinking. You get the same look Felicity does when Oliver’s on it.”

“And what would that be?” asked Dinah. 

Sara grinned. “Distraction.” Then, figuring her mother didn’t know what they were talking about, she explained, “The salmon ladder is a like a pull-up bar system where you go up the ladder by catching the bar on the next rung up.” 

“Like on American Ninja Warrior?” 

“Exactly. But I like to think I do it better.” 

Dinah looked to Nyssa. “Does she?” 

Nyssa sighed. “She is…particularly adept. Not for lack of confidence, however. You know, I am fully capable of doing it as well, Sara.”

“That, I’d like to see,” Sara said earnestly, grin widening.

By that point, they’d more or less finished their food, so they paid the bill, Sara flashing the waiter one last dirty look. As they were walking out, they overheard a handful of teenagers animatedly debating which Doctor Who companion was the best. 

“It’s Rose. He never loved anyone as much as Rose,” one girl said. 

“Are you kidding? Obviously it’s River,” one of the boys responded. “Like, I don’t even care about that sappy stuff, but even I know, if he loved Rose so much, he woulda married her. But he didn’t. He married River. Besides, River Song is the biggest BAMF on Doctor Who. Hands down.”

Dinah chuckled, and Sara asked, “What, do you watch that show? Who’s your favorite?” 

The woman smiled like she had a secret and replied, “Well, I do adore the Eleventh Doctor in particular. But, as far as companions go, I will say, I’m partial to River. Not sure why, but I just relate to her.” 

Sara shrugged. “Maybe I’ll have to watch it. Anyway, let’s go. Lots to do.” They had to be at Laurel’s in four hours, and she still had several things she wanted to accomplish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. 
> 
> Anyway, if you aren't familiar with Doctor Who: Alex Kensington, who plays Dinah Lance, also plays River Song.


	7. BOW TIES ARE COOL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah, Sara and Nyssa go shopping before having dinner at Laurel's. Meanwhile, Felicity has some Felicity moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep having the urge to throw Harley Quinn into a scene. Since she's in Belle Reve, we'll have to settle for other random DC characters at the moment. 
> 
> Also, ima (Hebrew for mom), is pronounced ēmä (EE-mah), fyi.

“It’s not gonna happen, is it?” Sara sighed, one hand on her hip and the other pushing her hair out of her face with an air of resignation. 

Dinah tilted her head appraisingly, searching for something that suggested otherwise. She didn’t find it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The blonde’s lower lip jutted out. “I really wanted it to work.”

“I know. I think you’ll just have to accept that it isn’t meant to be.” Dinah patted Sara’s back consolingly. “Bright colors just don’t suit her.”

The ‘her’ in question was Nyssa, who stood between the Lance women and the dressing room door, wearing a yellow sundress and resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest self-consciously under their scrutiny. They had made her try on several very colorful clothing items, none of which had looked especially good on her. Finally, Dinah gave her a sympathetic look and suggested that she try something from the other pile—the selection of colors and styles that she was more comfortable with. Nyssa retreated, barely bothering to lock the door before she peeled off the lemon-colored dress.

With a huff, Sara leaned back against the doorframe of the opposite dressing room, dragging the toe of her Converse along the ground as she crossed her legs casually, calf over shin. “I guess I should’ve known, huh? There’s a reason I couldn’t picture it.” She smirked, “Not that I really _try_ to picture Nys wearing cl…” She stopped herself, remembering who she was talking to and realizing that she shouldn’t be making her usual suggestive jokes in front of her mother. 

“Hm?” Dinah responded, clearly not paying much attention to her daughter as she sorted through the clothes in her arms.

“Nothing.”

The dressing room opened in front of them, revealing Nyssa in what could best be described as a little black dress. It was an A-line cut and sleeveless, with a high neckline that skirted her collarbone. She was noticeably more comfortable, even if the dress was more revealing than anything she owned. While she wasn’t quite a stranger to dresses, she had really only worn them for League-related purposes, which meant ankle-length at the very least. This one hit mid-thigh. She shifted her weight. “Well?”

Dinah grinned, and Nyssa could suddenly see where Sara got that from. “Now _that_ looks stunning,” she said.

For several seconds, there was no comment from Sara, who was still leaning against the opposite door frame. Her bottom lip was pinned between perfect teeth, and her half-lidded blue eyes were roving slowly up and down Nyssa’s body. The appreciative expression left Nyssa a little weak in the knees, but she pretended not to notice, smoothing her hands down the front of the dress. “Sara?” she prompted.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

With a chuckle, Dinah countered, “The look on your face says otherwise.”

Dragging her lip slowly from between her teeth, Sara nodded. She replied, “Course I like it. Just not sure I want to share the view with everyone else.” 

“Well, that's because jealousy is something you get from your father,” said her mother.

Sara's comment reminded Nyssa that this was something she intended to wear in public. As much confidence as she had in her physique, the thought of wearing something so revealing made her feel a kind of vulnerable that she wasn’t used to. She fingered the hem of the dress, tugging it lightly. “It’s rather…short.”

Sara crossed the small distance between them and trailed her fingers along Nyssa’s side, down the length of the dress. “You look ridiculously beautiful. Now try the rest. We’ll be here forever at this rate,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to Nyssa’s cheek and nudging her back toward the dressing room. 

They cycled through the rest much more quickly. The final selection included the black dress, an equally short but long-sleeved one in dark purple, a powder blue v-neck, and a pair of high-waisted, white denim shorts that Sara resolutely insisted on. Sara had chosen a handful of dresses, a long knit cardigan, and few pairs of shorts for herself. After paying for the clothes, the Canary headed towards another department. They were steps away from racks of lingerie when she stopped abruptly and flashed her fiancée a mischievous grin. 

“How would you feel about waiting over there?” Sara pointed to the home goods department nearby. There was a cluster of couches and armchairs there, and one was occupied by a young man, who she suspected was waiting for his own significant other. Nyssa frowned but adjusted course for one of the plush navy armchairs. 

“Mother-daughter bra shopping?” Dinah asked, amused by how much Nyssa looked like Quentin used to all those years ago: lost but with an air of acceptance in the interest of the greater good. 

“Just like when I was younger.” Sara waltzed into the heart of the lingerie department with a confidence she definitely hadn’t had back then. 

“Well, this time I actually believe you want my company and not just my credit card.”

Sara scanned the racks around them. “I definitely needed your wisdom, whether I wanted to admit it or not. Y’know, I haven’t bought anything but practical underwear in a really long time. Not really sure where to start, honestly.” 

Dinah raised an eyebrow, glancing between her daughter and the assortment of bras, trying to gauge size. “Really? I thought you and…I wouldn’t have assumed that.”

“Mom,” Sara grimaced. “Not for, like, lack of interest. I just haven’t had time. It wasn’t exactly a priority, with everything else that was going on.”

“I know I might not seem like the top authority on lasting relationships,” Dinah acknowledged as a preface to her advice. “But it’s important to make romance a priority sometimes, sweetheart. It’s easy to get in a rut, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think to get out of one.” 

Rolling her eyes, Sara turned a lacy, black set over in her hands appraisingly. “Trust me, the romance is very much alive.” She noticed her mother peering at something that looked an awful lot like a corset and shook her head, suppressing a smirk. “Don’t think that’s up my alley.” 

With a nod, Dinah held up a vibrant red ensemble. “How about this? And really, Sara. Nyssa doesn’t seem like the type to push when it comes to intimacy. You have to keep her needs in mind, because there might be things she wants but isn’t prepared to ask for.” 

Sara groaned internally. There was no way she was getting out of this awkward lecture unless she wanted to overshare with her mother. Sure, she understood where her mom was coming from—Nyssa was still pretty prudish on the outside. But, in the privacy of their bedroom, the woman was both bold and insatiable. If Dinah thought she wouldn’t push, Sara should’ve told her about the other night, when Nyssa slammed her against the wall without a word, shoved a hand down her pants, and made her come three times before letting her so much as take off her coat. But that’s not really something one tells their mother, so she’d have to suffer the unwanted advice in silence. 

Meanwhile, Nyssa was sitting primly in the armchair when the young man on the couch decided to make small talk. He combed a hand through medium-length red hair and asked, “You waiting for someone?” 

The assassin nodded. “My fiancée and future mother-in-law.”

“Men’s wear or lingerie?”

She gave him a small, genuine smile. “Lingerie. I assume you are awaiting someone as well?” 

He grinned, shoving up the sleeves of his navy blazer, which he wore over a light blue t-shirt that proclaimed: BOW TIES ARE COOL. “Yep. Girlfriend. Normally, I’m not a huge fan of sitting around while she shops, but it’s our one-year anniversary, so I have to do as the lady wishes. Fiancée, huh? Congrats.” 

“Same to you. How did you two meet?”

“We went to high school together, but I bumped into her at a coffee shop last year, and things just clicked. Apparently, she’d always sorta had a crush on me, which was nice to know, since I wasn’t exactly top of the food chain. Ha, the high point of my popularity was when I finally got into one of Merlyn and Queen’s legendary parties.” 

Nyssa quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Merlyn and Queen?”

The young man laughed, “Judging by your accent, those names don’t mean much to you, right?”

“You’d be surprised,” she deadpanned. At his curious look, she explained, “Sara Lance is my fiancée.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Sara was two years above me. So you know Oliver, then?” He clearly knew he was at risk of opening a can of worms but smiled hopefully.

“Yes, Oliver and I have progressed to what might loosely be considered friendship,” Nyssa replied. “The Lance sisters are very insistent that everyone get along. Except when they’re angry, at which point chaos will inevitably ensue.” 

“A little chaos keeps life interesting,” he laughed. 

So they chatted about their own moments of chaos. She told stories of travel adventures ranging from extravagant to miserable. He shared tales of the strange places and situations he often found himself in because of his job. Apparently, his coworkers had a tendency to attract trouble wherever they went, and he had a tendency to follow them headfirst into said trouble. 

After a while, a familiar voice called out from over Nyssa’s shoulder, “Whatever she’s saying about me is probably true, but I reserve the right to indignantly deny everything.” Sara walked over with a new shopping bag in hand and perched on the arm of Nyssa’s chair. “Making friends, babe?”

“You _have_ suggested, on occasion, that I should work on my interpersonal skills.”

Sara flashed the young man a winning smile. “James, right? What’s the verdict?”

“Oh, A+ for sure.” He beamed and reached out to shake Nyssa’s hand, declaring, “And you can call me Jimmy, by the way.” 

“Nyssa,” the woman replied. It felt exceptionally strange to introduce herself so informally. Quite some time had passed since she’d called herself the Heir to the Demon, but she had yet to figure out who she was without the League. 

Jimmy’s eyes widened, focusing on something beyond the couple. “Sara, you might want to make a break for it. Ford Cartwell is on the escalator.”

Sneaking a quick glance over her shoulder, Sara groaned. “Why? What did I possibly do to deserve this?” 

“Y’know you’ve gotta go for the movie cliché,” Jimmy prompted. “The kiss-to-get-out-of-it tactic. I’ll give you the all-clear when he’s gone.”

“There must be a more mature way to handle this,” Nyssa remarked as Sara slid into the chair with her. 

The Canary threw her arms around her fiancée’s neck and replied, “Shut up, and kiss me.” 

So she did.

Heads tilted, and lips parted, and tongues slid against each other, and, pretty quickly, they were paying more attention to kissing than to their surroundings. Nyssa’s fingers were threading through the soft hairs at the base of Sara’s neck when a loud cough brought them back to reality. Sara breathed deeply, remembering why they’d had that no-kissing-during-missions rule. Too distracting. 

Jimmy was grinning at them. “Okay, that was…well, it’s not hard to see that you two belong together. Man, you shoulda seen Ford’s face. I wish I had my camera. Talk about drama.” 

“You have a phone,” Sara pointed out. “The cameras on these things are insane.”

Dinah arrived then, carrying a bag of her own. “I think I just passed the Cartwell boy. He was muttering something about public displays of affection and gold stars.”

“It’s a long story,” her daughter replied. And it was. But the abridged version was that, freshman year of high school, Ford—that egomaniacal douche—had created a to-do list, or, more accurately, _who_ to do by graduation. And Sara was at the top of it. He called her the gold star, because she was blonde; no one ever accused him of being clever. But she wasn’t interested, which he’d never been able to wrap his head around. One could only hope that seeing her kiss Nyssa finally convinced him. 

Nyssa checked the time and nudged Sara off her lap. “We should be going. It was a pleasure talking with you, Jimmy.”

“Yeah,” Sara nodded in agreement. “Thanks, man. Maybe we’ll see you around?”

He shook his head. “We’re only here to visit for a few days. But you gotta let me know if you’re ever in Metropolis. Nice meeting you, Nyssa. Have a good one, guys!”

Once they were out of earshot, Nyssa whispered to Sara, “Do you suppose that’s…”

“Lois and Clark’s friend Jimmy? I’m pretty sure he is. Small world, huh?”

Nyssa hummed distractedly. They might see Jimmy again, which meant she may have just made a friend who knew nothing of her past as an assassin. What did he think of her? She wasn’t sure, except that he’d treated her like a normal person. But normal did not an identity make. It was almost the opposite. Maybe she should relent and ask Sara. If anyone knew who she was without the titles, or the League, or a purpose, it would be her Canary. Or Laurel, she supposed. 

The brunette was distracted all through the drive to Oliver’s. It wasn’t until an overnight bag landed on her lap, and she looked up to see Felicity smiling at her, that she realized she’d been sitting on the porch for at least twenty minutes. Felicity sat down beside her. 

“Oh! I hope that didn’t seem like—I’m not, like, kicking you out or anything! It just looked like you needed some time alone, so I figured I’d get your bag for you. Since you’re staying at Laurel’s tonight. Sara told you that, right? Not that you aren’t always welcome to sleep with us. No, that’s wrong. I meant—”

“Felicity.” Nyssa set the bag at her feet and turned to face the blonde. “Thank you.”

“Right. Sorry. No problem,” the tech whiz replied, tripping past the babbling. “Anyway, penny for your thoughts?”

Unsure of how much self-doubt she wanted to share with Felicity, Nyssa simply said, “The League of Assassins no longer exists.”

Felicity frowned. She wasn’t Sara; she couldn’t intuitively pick up on the meaning behind Nyssa’s words. After almost a minute of analysis, she asked, “Do you remember how I introduced myself when we first met?”

“I believe it was, “Felicity Smoak, MIT Class of ’09,” correct?”

“Yep. So that’s who I am? An MIT alumna?”

Nyssa scoffed. “That is hardly an adequate description.”

“Exactly,” Felicity chirped, snapping her fingers and pointing at Nyssa. “Same goes for the Heir to the Demon. You’ve always been way more than that. Don’t worry so much about titles. Just because it’s salient doesn’t mean it defines you. It’s alright to just be Nyssa, even if you’re not sure what that entails yet.” She could tell that Nyssa wasn’t convinced, so she pointed out, “It isn’t very Heir-like to be with a woman, is it? Not ideal for continuing the bloodline. Obviously you were more than just the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul when you met Sara, or you wouldn’t be here now, engaged to her.” 

“You may be right,” Nyssa conceded, chuckling at Felicity’s enthusiastic cheer of triumph. “But it’s still strange to be aimless after having such a consuming focus for so long.”

Felicity nodded. “I get it. After Oliver stopped using his dad’s book to choose targets, the team definitely had a bit of an identity crisis. There was a whole lot of aimlessness and sulking.” 

With a smirk, Nyssa commented, “Oliver Queen? Sulking? How shocking.”

“Ooh! Are we making fun of Ollie?” Sara traipsed onto the porch, phone dangling loosely from between her fingers. She waved down the driveway at Laurel, who was just pulling up. 

“Hey! You’re interrupting our heart-to-heart here, Sara. Jeez!” Felicity joked. 

Mock pouting, Sara crossed her arms. “Whatever. I don’t need you. I’ve got Laurel!” She grinned as her sister came up the porch steps. 

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What are you dragging me into?”

Suddenly, Sara’s face lit up, and her grin widened. “Wait a minute. You,” she pointed at Nyssa. “Said you can do the salmon ladder. So let’s see it.”

“Now? I’m wearing _jeans_ , Sara.”

“That sounds like a cop out to me,” Laurel egged. 

Nyssa looked to Felicity, who shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to turn the tables. We’ve been victims of the ladder too long! Show her how it feels.”

So the four women strode into the house and down the stairs. Eyeing the equipment appraisingly, Nyssa sighed, tossed her sweater to Sara, and marched over to the salmon ladder in her sports bra and jeans. Her abs alone garnered impressed looks, but she focused on the motion of her body and the bar and quickly found a rhythm. 

“Boom!” Felicity declared, speaking to Sara but keeping her eyes on Nyssa. “That’s called getting _owned_ , my friend! Not literally, of course, because you can’t actually own another human. That's not okay. Then again, you _are_ getting married, which is kind of like staking a property claim.”

“Fuck,” Laurel whispered. “And I thought Sara was impressive.” 

Sara, however, was entirely ignoring Felicity’s babbling and her sister’s pseudo-insult. 

“No.” 

Sin was standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. “Stop it,” she whined, stomping over to the ladder and looking up at Nyssa reproachfully. “She’s bad enough as it is. You don’t havta encourage her.” 

Nyssa raised an eyebrow but complied, making her way back to the floor and wiping her hands on a towel. When she reached for her sweater, Sara hugged it to her chest. 

“Nope. It’s better like this,” she reasoned. 

“Sara, we gotta go to dinner,” Sin insisted. “And Ima needs a shirt for that, or your dad’s gonna flip his shit.” The teen caught Nyssa’s wide-eyed look and said, “Yeah, I’m callin’ ya ima for the rest of the night at least. Consider it a reminder that ya shouldn’t be actin’ more like a teenager than me, an actual teenager.” 

“Spoilsport,” Sara grumbled, handing over Nyssa’s sweater. She slung her arm over Sin’s shoulders and asked, “So, what did my mom have to say?”

Putting her own arm around the blonde, Sin shrugged. “She said she won’t try to be anything I don’t want her to be and handed me a hundred bucks.”

“Nice. Wait, you’re not planning on calling her ‘Grandma’, right?”

“Nah. It’d be weird, y’know? You guys are my family in every way that matters, not just a replacement for what I’m missing. I don’t want it to be a comparison. It’s hard to explain. But, like, just ‘cause I don’t call you ‘Mom’, it doesn’t mean you haven’t been a great parent. Really, I haven’t thanked you enough, Sar.”

At that, Sara’s heart clenched. For all her teasing, Sin was rarely so genuine about the particular role Sara played in her life. It was one thing to know the teen cared deeply for her, but it was something else entirely to hear that she was appreciated as a parental figure. Nyssa came up on her other side and intertwined their fingers. Sara grinned. “No need. I’d do anything for my favorite girls.”

Felicity looked at Laurel. “Well, that hurt.”

“We’re second rate,” Laurel sighed. 

But then Sin reached backwards and wiggled her fingers. “Quit whining.” Laurel took the offered hand, and they headed upstairs. 

Felicity trailed behind, humming ‘On My Own’ until Sara rolled her eyes and asked, “Felicity, do you wanna come to our family dinner?” 

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s nice to be wanted, though.”

Sara laughed and followed Nyssa and Sin into the back seat of Laurel’s car, where her mother was already waiting in the passenger seat. Oliver shook his head as Felicity waved goodbye, and, though Sara couldn’t hear him, she was pretty sure he was reminding her that they’d be back the next morning. 

They walked into Laurel’s apartment to the smell of delicious food cooking, and Sara had flashbacks to her childhood: family BBQs and Saturday morning pancakes and everything ever on Christmas. Good thing Nyssa could cook, because she definitely wanted those kinds of memories for their kids. 

“Hi Daddy!” Sara called cheerily. 

Quentin walked into the front room and squinted at Sara as if he expected her to do something that might make him uncomfortable. She had no idea why. That hadn’t happened _that_ much lately, had it? This is why her little family needed their own house. Though she had a strong suspicion that it wouldn’t help much. Shaking his head, Quentin hugged her and, forgoing the brunette’s outstretched hand, hugged Nyssa, too. While Nyssa recovered from her shock, Laurel greeted her father and peeked in the kitchen.

“You made spaghetti and meatballs! My favorite!” Laurel smiled.

“Well,” her father shrugged. “I was going to make steak for Sara, but this is what Sin wanted.”

Sin grinned. “Thanks Captain Lance!” The teen hugged him and padded over to the couch. 

Sara put a hand over her heart. “I’ve been replaced.”

“Seems to be going around,” her sister sighed. 

They gave Quentin and Dinah some space and went to hang out in the living room. Sara sat next to Sin, throwing her arms over the back of the couch and grinning as she took in the changes to the room since she’d last been there. Eventually, she ended up in conversation with Sin. Nyssa and Laurel sat beside each other in chairs, and Laurel noticed a sort of dazed look in Nyssa’s eyes. 

“What’s on your mind?”

Nyssa tore her eyes away from Sara—specifically, the small gap between her shirt and her waistband—to look at Laurel. Seeing that sliver of stomach reminded her what she and Sara had done early that morning. “Can you keep a secret?”

Laurel gave her a withering look. “Seriously?”

“Alright,” Nyssa whispered. “This morning, we used the device that Thea and Sin stole from the CADMUS facility.” As Laurel’s eyes went wide, Nyssa’s hands shot out to press down her shoulders, preventing the older Lance sister from jumping up in excitement. 

“Are you telling me Sara might be pregnant?”

Nyssa nodded longingly. 

“So,” Laurel smirked, trying to sound threatening. “You’re telling me you might’ve gotten my baby sister pregnant? You better be serious about marrying her.” To Laurel’s amusement, Nyssa flushed slightly, but not out of embarrassment. She grinned. “I _knew_ it! You are, like, married, aren’t you? Not legally, but some kind of League recognition, right?” 

“The League has…other ways of recognizing things,” Nyssa simultaneously argued and admitted. “Our bond was unofficially acknowledged long before…” She trailed off, sensing someone coming up behind them. 

“Food is about ready, girls,” Dinah announced. 

They were just sitting down at the table when Laurel jumped up. “Oh, Sara, before I forget again, I need to give you these.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small stack of envelopes, which she handed to Sara. 

Sin caught sight of the emblem in the corner and said, “So that’s where this stuff’s been going.” She swiped one from the pile, tore it open, and scowled. 

“These are all from the school,” Sara realized, scanning the return addresses. 

“May I?” Nyssa took two of the four unopened envelopes from Sara, and the pair sat, side by side, skimming the contents of the letters. Passing a page to her fiancée, the brunette looked up at the teenager, who sat on Sara’s other side. “This is very good, Sin. I’m proud of you.”

Running her hand through jet black hair, the girl grinned, “Thanks, Ima.”

Sara held the report card out to her parents. “Look at that! All A’s!” While her family expressed congratulations, she peered over at the letter still in Sin’s hands. “What’s that about?”

Sin’s lip twitched. “Let’s talk about it later. For now, keep telling me how amazing I am.”

“Hmph,” Quentin huffed gruffly, handing the report card back to Nyssa. “Maybe Harper and Thea aren’t such bad influences. Y’know, speakin’ of kids who ain’t so bad, I got a few tips from the Titans today. They’re very polite for a bunch of vigilante punks,” he said pointedly. 

“I suppose fighting crime and being raised well aren’t mutually exclusive,” Dinah offered. “Nyssa’s manners are impeccable, and then there’s our children.”

Nyssa looked up from the napkin she’d just placed on her lap. “Thank you?” Noting Sara’s elbows on the table—again—she sighed and nudged them off. 

Quentin frowned, plating the spaghetti. “I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or depressing.”

“I’ll be a cool mom,” Sara declared. “If my kids want to be superheroes, why should I stand in the way of their dreams?”

“I’m counting on you to be the sensible one,” her father said to his future daughter-in-law. 

“No masks or capes in the Lance-al Ghul household,” Nyssa agreed. 

“Or hoods,” Quentin insisted. “No hoods, either.”

Hours later, as they were getting into bed, Sara asked Nyssa, “So, no masks?”

“Inside the house. Outside is another matter. Which is not to say we will be encouraging our children to follow our example.”

“No masks in the house…” Sara grinned. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t like role playing?”

“I much prefer your pretty face, Beloved.” 

“I love you.”

“And I love you. Goodnight.”

There was a moment of quiet before Sara said, “I think my family likes you better than me.”

“No they don’t. Go to sleep, Sara.”

Sara kissed Nyssa and snuggled into her side. “M’kay. G’night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So James Bartholomew "Jimmy" Olsen has joined our cast of characters.* He has an affinity for bow ties and a knack for capturing drama. 
> 
> We've also got another reference to the Titans, DC's young heroes and the protégés and sidekicks of the big names. 
> 
> New chapter will be up very soon!
> 
> *Not the one in Supergirl. Or Smallville. That's supposedly his older brother, who was made up for the show. If you want to get a sense for the character, Justin Whalin in Lois & Clark is one of my favorite live action portrayals of him.


	8. Parenting is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parenting is hard. So is not getting interrupted all the time. Sara and Nyssa constantly struggle with both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that, in the show(s), Sara’s Arabic isn’t super, but it’s a tough language, so I’ll give Caity Lotz the benefit of the doubt. But I think that Sara Lance would actually speak the language very well, since adapting is sort of a talent of hers, so that’s how it is in my head.  
> In terms of pronunciation, asfer (as in Taer al Asfer) is pronounced more like asfar. Everyone, including the wikis, seem to write it as Asfer, so that's what I did, but that's definitely not phonetically accurate.  
> Ra's is pronounced more like Raiysh. Nobody gets that right, so it's probably hard to change if you've been saying Raz, as a lot of the characters do.

Sin leaned her chair back, propping her feet on the seat of the desk in front of her. The homeroom bell rang, and her teacher started taking attendance. The teen sighed. 

“What’s up?” Her friend, a blonde girl named Cassie, asked, leaning across her own desk.

“It’s been quiet lately. No world-alterin’ events or nothin’.” Sin fixed her spiky hair.

Cassie frowned. “Is that a bad thing?”

Raising her eyebrows, Sin looked at the girl as though Cassie couldn’t possibly understand the hardships she had endured. “When it gets too quiet, my family has a tendency to fill the void. I’m just hopin’ I can avoid the insanity.”

Meanwhile at Laurel’s, Sara woke to Nyssa’s warmth against her side and an arm slung across her torso. The brunette’s fingers were lazily tracing nonspecific patterns on her soft, new underwear. In addition to the more racy lingerie, Sara had grabbed a few new pairs of boyshorts, and she could understand Nyssa’s impulse to touch; the fabric was ridiculously soft. 

Eventually, she pried one eye open. “You do realize where your hand is, right?”

Nyssa gave her an easy, feline smirk and shifted to smaller, more intent circles. “This is what you bought yesterday?”

“No. Well, yeah, but there’s more. Like, actually sexy stuff. It gets a lot better.”

Still smirking, Nyssa sounded skeptical. “Better?”

“A lot,” Sara reiterated. 

“I did not know that you desired such things.”

Sara quirked an eyebrow, amused. She spoke slowly, distractedly. “Uh, ’s not…for me. It’s for you, silly.”

Pressing a kiss to the blonde’s pulse point, Nyssa asked, “Would you like to show me?”

“Not now. I got…plans.” Sara wrapped her own fingers loosely around her fiancée’s wrist. “I really can’t…can’t concentrate with your hand…down…there. _Oh!_ ”

“Then don’t.”

Sara groaned. “Yeah, okay. Just…just keep track of your underwear. If…ah…if we leave that here, Laurel will have a fit.”

“True as that may be, it is difficult to misplace something one did not have to begin with.”

At that, Sara's eyes darkened even more. “Well, fuck.”

Laurel had told them in no uncertain terms that they could “fuck each other’s brains out in the guest bedroom” for all she cared, so long as she didn’t have to know if it happened—before, during or after. True to her point, the older Lance sister had taken to always knocking when they were staying with her—something she’d never done when she and Sara were growing up. Which, incidentally, is why Sara would have been least upset by Laurel barging in on them; her sister had walked in on her changing or showering enough times back in the day that there wasn’t much left to be embarrassed about. 

Sara had a feeling that Laurel’s cautiousness was a result of her melodramatic teenager’s exaggerated complaining. Sin had moaned for nearly a month about how she needed to bleach both the kitchen counters and her eyes after walking into her tiny apartment midday to the sight of Sara sitting on said counter with Nyssa’s mouth latched onto her exposed breast. Honestly, it was just a make out session that got a little heated. They’d been entirely clothed except that Sara’s sports bra was tugged out of the way on one side. But anyone who heard Sin’s whining would think she’d seen something far worse. Actually, if Sin hadn’t overreacted so violently, Sara and Nyssa might have realized that her presence in the apartment at that hour meant she was cutting class. Which meant Sin's reaction was probably more of a distraction to save herself from getting in trouble. 

Regardless, Laurel made a point to knock these days, and Quentin had learnt his lesson long ago from his screeching daughters at a time they called puberty and he thought of as warfare. The one Lance who did not understand the importance of knocking, however, was Dinah. Living in Central City meant she had no idea how Sara and Nyssa could be. 

So, of course, that’s why she ended up walking in on them, saying, “Laurel and I are about to have breakfast, if you…” What Dinah Lance came face to face with was her daughter, back arched against the opposite wall, eyes closed and hands knotted in Nyssa’s hair, holding her fiancée’s head between her thighs. Sara’s toned stomach was partially exposed because of the hand Nyssa had up her shirt, and, to allow for better access, she had an ankle hitched over Nyssa’s shoulder. 

Sara was so close—so fucking, mind-numbingly close—that she didn’t even open her eyes at the sound of her mother’s voice. Instead, she squeezed them tighter and willed the situation to handle itself. Nyssa froze, and it took all of Sara’s willpower to stomp down the instinctual urge to buck her hips in search of the release she so desperately needed. 

It took three full seconds of incredibly awkward silence for Dinah to pull herself together and back out of the room, stuttering apologies. Immediately after, Sara moaned an almost-silent plea for Nyssa to keep going.

“Sara…” Nyssa whispered, voice thick and conflicted with a combination of embarrassment and desire. “Your mother…”

“If you think you’re not finishing what you started, you’re crazy,” Sara replied, her own voice straining. “I can’t _breathe_ like this, much less think about what to say to her.”

So Nyssa complied, because how could she not? Less than thirty seconds later, Sara slid bonelessly down the wall and sat on the floor, feeling more like a puddle than a person. Nyssa pivoted to sit beside her, and Sara leaned over to kiss her, ignoring the familiar tingle in her spine. Resting her head contentedly on the brunette’s shoulder, she laughed. “Okay, first off, I’m not sure what you did differently, but, for fuck’s sake, do it every time from now on. I mean, holy shit, that was incredible. Secondly, breathe, alright? I’m not a kid anymore, and she knows that. Besides, that was far from the most compromising position we’ve been caught in.” 

“Beloved, the version of you that she knows was barely older than Sin. She has not had much opportunity to adjust to your being an adult. Moreover, you will always be her child, whatever your age may be.” Nyssa sighed and closed her eyes. “This was easier when Sin was your only family.” 

Sara turned to face her. “Hey. They like you. Laurel might as well be in your corner with pompoms,” she laughed. “My dad trusts you, which is rare with him. I mean, other than the whole ex-assassin thing, you’re kinda every parent’s dream. You’re respectful, reserved, self-sufficient. And you love me.” 

“I do. Perhaps against my better judgment.”

“Love you, too. Hands down the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. So come on. Time to face the music. Unless you want to stay here, because I’d love to reciprocate. No? Okay.”

Sara stood and hauled a very reluctant Nyssa to her feet, proceeding to pull her own t-shirt over her head on the way to her overnight bag. She withdrew underwear, a light pink v-neck, and black jeans, which she put on quickly before checking herself over in the mirror. After combing a hand through her hair a few times, she turned to see Nyssa wearing a maroon sweater and jeans. Taking her hand, she led her out of the bedroom and into the dining room. Pasting on an awkward smile, she greeted her mother, who sat at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Laurel could be heard clattering around in the kitchen. 

Without looking up, Dinah said, “Sweetie, next time I try to give you unnecessary relationship advice, you’re welcome to just tell me off.” She was obviously referring to their shopping trip. 

Sara took a seat and snorted, “Yeah, right. What was I supposed to say? Like, “don’t worry, Mom, we have an extremely healthy sex life”? ‘Cause that’s what every mother wants to hear.” At Nyssa’s squeak of embarrassment, Sara smirked. “Nys is worried you’re gonna hate her for defiling your baby.”

The brunette hissed something in Arabic that sounded particularly fierce. Whatever Sara said in response, her accent-adjusted voice becoming tooth-achingly sweet, instantly quelled Nyssa’s anger. As innocent as Sara sounded, her mother didn’t need to understand the language to realize that the words couldn’t be nearly as polite as her tone suggested. Dinah was more focused on the topic at hand, though.

“Nyssa, honey, you have nothing to worry about. I was the one who convinced Quentin to let Sara and her ‘friends’ get a hotel room on prom night.” Friends was said with air quotes. “I have no grand illusions about my children.” 

“Prom is a big, fancy dance for high school kids,” Laurel explained, leaning against the doorframe. She was wearing a salmon pantsuit—the kind that shouldn’t look good on anyone, but she somehow rocked it. “It’s kinda notorious for being when people lose their virginity.”

Nyssa looked at Sara for confirmation, and the blonde nodded. “Yeah, you’ve heard that story. Wasn’t great.”

“Whose first time is?” Dinah chuckled. Laurel snapped her fingers in agreement.

“Mine was,” Nyssa said quietly but confidently. As much as it frustrated her to feel so exposed, her little yellow bird more than deserved some credit. 

Sara grinned wildly, took her fiancée’s face in both hands, and kissed her firmly. Keeping her warm palms on either side of Nyssa’s face, she pulled back and matter-of-factly declared, “You’re cute.” Nyssa couldn’t help but grin back.

“Sara was her first,” Laurel supplied helpfully, if unnecessarily. “Again, a fact I did not need to know.”

“And yet, you continue to mention it,” Nyssa returned archly. 

Dinah laughed. “She’s got a point, Laurel.”

Smirking, Sara kept her own comment to herself, instead looking first at the empty space where a fourth chair used to be, then around the room. “Okay, I’m not gonna even ask what happened to the other chair, but…” She stood, turned, and dropped onto Nyssa’s lap. “There. More space. You don’t mind, right?”

“Of course not. Why would we?” Dinah questioned, beckoning Laurel to Sara’s vacated chair. 

“Dad showed up here unannounced one time while we were visiting. We were just sitting on the couch, reading, fully-clothed and everything, and he got all flustered. Like, you’d think he saw what you did. Seriously, he’s such a weirdo sometimes.”

Her mother shook her head, partly amused and partly disappointed in Quentin. “Your father is much too protective for his own good. But, to be fair, you might not have been shy, per se, but you certainly weren’t always this comfortable with sexuality. And that was when you were straight. Is the change just a matter of maturity?”

Nyssa snorted. “I believe it was the Talia incident.”

“Oh my god, yes. The Talia incident,” Sara giggled. “Remember how…and Ra’s…that was priceless.”

“And Talia would be…?” Dinah prompted the pair, who seemed more inclined to laugh at the memory than fill the others in. 

“Nys’s sister.”

“Talia is…what was the phrase you used, Beloved?”

“Talia has no chill,” Sara offered, snickering. 

Laurel nodded. “According to Sin and Thea, she's a complete lunatic.”

“Perhaps,” Nyssa frowned, sounding slightly apologetic. “Though she is still my sister.”

Sara raised an eyebrow critically. “She tried to feed me to a crocodile.”

“…Half sister,” Nyssa amended.

Dinah looked horrified. “She did what?”

“Tried to make me crocodile food. Very unsuccessfully, obviously. It’s not even a very good story.”

Refilling her coffee cup, Laurel remarked, “You must not realize how insane your life was if attempted murder via crocodile doesn’t automatically qualify as a good story.”

“Meh,” Sara shrugged. “I’m just saying she’s an idiot. You have to really suck at life to loose a title that you were guaranteed by virtue of being the firstborn. Even if your younger sister is a million times more worthy.”

Blushing ever so slightly, Nyssa shook her head. “That is an overstatement. And you are getting distracted, Sara.”

“Right. The Talia incident.” Sara narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out where to start. “So, we’d been together for like two months, maybe. Like, officially together, not just setting up unnecessary extra training sessions as an excuse to see me alone.”

“Excuse me,” Nyssa said indignantly. “Did you not let Sarab _break_ your arm and then refuse to see the trained healer for the purpose of encouraging me to care for you myself?”

“Oh, hush. I'm telling a story.” Sara laughed, “But yeah, I did. It was so worth it.”

“I disagree.”

“So you regret the circumstances of our first kiss, then?” Sara asked coyly, and her fiancée shook her head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Sara!” Dinah admonished, “Are you going to tell the story?”

“Yes, okay. So. Where was I? Oh, yeah. We'd been official and shit for a while, so people knew and had gotten pretty used to it, including her dad. But Talia spends most of her time in Gotham, so she had no idea.

“So, when she comes back for a visit, she just barges into our room—Nyssa's room, back then—and sees…” Sara hesitated, looking to Nyssa for help. 

The assassin sighed. “She walked in on Sara and myself enjoying our first free evening in a few weeks. During which Sara was adamant about…proving something to me.”

“Multiple orgasms. And I was pretty convincing.” Sara puffed out her chest proudly. 

“If you hadn’t noticed, Nyssa,” Laurel laughed, “There is no subtlety in this family.”

“You don’t say,” Nyssa replied dryly. 

“ _Anyway._ Talia walks in, stares, then runs out, shouting, “I'm telling father!” So, of course, Nys goes after her, for damage control. Ra’s wasn’t exactly the approving father type. By the time I got there, they were all talking over each other. And, when you’re still adjusting to being bisexual and to everything that comes with dating a girl, as fantastic as those things might be, that’s really a nightmare—being the center of attention when you’re so vulnerable.” She shuddered. 

Nyssa stroked Sara’s cheek soothingly and continued the story. “My father invoked order and asked Talia what her concern was.”

“Pretty sure his exact words were, “What inconsequential matter has inspired you to disturb me.” Which is an amazing way to tell your kid to fuck off.”

Nyssa shook her head and wound her arms tighter around Sara's waist. “Regardless, that was what Talia perceived as an opening.”  
  
~

“Dear Father, I just walked into Nyssa’s chambers—”

Ra’s frowned. “Unannounced? What would posses you to do such a foolish thing?”

“I was not under the impression that she might be…entertaining,” Talia sneered, flipping her light brown hair haughtily. “Our little Nyssa has never been particularly adept at attracting preferential attention.”

“And yet, she’s the Heir,” Sara spoke up, pulling her thick crimson robe tight around her small frame. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt underneath, but the sun was long gone, and the stone under her bare feet was cold. It was technically Nyssa’s robe, but she’d taken to using it simply so her girlfriend couldn’t. 

Talia glanced backwards at Sara, her lip curling in disgust at the girl, who she’d rather not even acknowledge. Sara resolutely refused to look her in the eye out of embarrassment, looking instead at Nyssa, who stood a few meters in front of her. In her haste to chase down her sister, the brunette had grabbed Sara's sweater. It was a snug fit and, paired with her yoga pants, made for a pretty picture from where Sara was standing. She shook her head and tuned back in to the conversation. She had it bad. If Talia somehow convinced Ra’s to disallow their relationship, she might die. A very melodramatic death of the soul, sure, but a death nonetheless. 

“But, Father!” Talia was whining. As per usual. “I saw—”

“I told you, child. I do not wish to hear what you saw Nyssa and Taer al Asfer doing in the privacy of their chambers.” Sara silently rejoiced that he was willing to recognize the room as jointly theirs instead of just Nyssa’s. 

“But Taer al Asfer was—”

“Talia,” Ra’s bellowed gruffly. “I gave you my thoughts on the matter. I will not discuss their private affairs with you. I understand you may have difficulty comprehending simple statements, but I can make it no more clear. That is final.”

“Pardon?” Talia asked, shocked. 

“The venerable Demon’s Head just called you an idiot,” Sara giggled. 

“Ah, thank you, Taer al Asfer.” Ra’s nodded at her. “Your tendency for blunt speech is rather useful in this instance. And I am pleased to note that your Arabic vocabulary is growing.”

Sara grinned and bowed her head in thanks, but she knew not to say any more and risk seeming insolent. That was the most praise she’d ever received from him, and she basked in it. If Ra’s al Ghul—the walking embodiment of traditional and conservative—didn’t give a damn that she was sleeping with his daughter, she might as well stop worrying about what other people thought. Really, she could be anyone or no one here, and, as long as she stayed loyal, they didn’t seem to treat her any different. 

Talia was inches from stomping her feet in outrage. “Father, you would not treat her with such favor if you knew what she has done!”

Ra’s turned to address his other daughter with the utmost patience. “Nyssa, the actions in question directly involve you, true?”

“That is correct, Father.” Nyssa held her chin high, refusing to let her sister’s nonsense compromise her pride. 

“And do they threaten or defy our laws in any manner? Should I be concerned of treasonous behavior from your little bird?”

Disbelief and disdain flitted across Sara’s face at the mere suggestion, but Nyssa calmly replied, “I would hardly have allowed her through our doors, much less into my bed, had I doubted her capacity to respect our ways. Her loyalty does not waver.”

“I do not doubt it.” Ra’s let a smile pull at the corners of his mouth and completed his inquiry. “Then, this thing, which involves exclusively Taer al Asfer and yourself—do you approve of it?”

At that, Nyssa hesitated and cleared her throat. “I…I most certainly do.” Emboldened, she sneered at her sister, “For that matter, I actively encourage it.” 

“Then it is resolved. Talia, if you seek to better understand what you may or may not have seen, you have my permission to look into a course at Gotham University when you return.” His voice was even, but there was no mistaking the mockery in the comment. 

“Thank you, Father,” replied Talia, finally realizing that she wasn’t winning this battle. “My sincerest apologies for wasting your time.”

He dismissed them, and the three young women politely exited. The second they rounded the corner, Talia's face twisted back into a grimace. “You may have my father fooled,” she said, jabbing at Sara's chest with a manicured nail. “But I know what you‘re doing.”

Rubbing at her now-bruised breast bone, Sara rolled her eyes. “Do you? It doesn’t seem like you have a great understanding of the refined art of romance. Which isn’t all that surprising, since you don’t have a refined bone in your body.” 

Talia hissed, “You’d be wise to remember that you are still an outsider here.”

“Am I?” Sara shrugged casually, unconcerned. “Because I have a seat at your father’s table, and, last I checked, you live on another continent.” 

“That means nothing,” Nyssa’s sister growled so aggressively that it clearly meant everything. 

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Really? Wish I could see it from your perspective, but I doubt I’d be able to get my head that far up your ass.” Finally intervening, Nyssa lightly smacked Sara’s arm, somewhat disapprovingly, though the smile she was fighting only boosted Sara’s confidence. 

“You are nothing but a street rat, little bird,” Talia sneered menacingly. “My foolish sister will soon grow tired of you, and you will see what error you’ve made in antagonizing me.”

“Okay, I got two things out of that. First: the al Ghul sisters have a thing for wings, huh? Least I’m not a bat.” Sara slung an arm around Nyssa and leaned into her, remarking, “And, second: I tire her out almost nightly, but she keeps coming back for more, so I’m not worried. When’s the last time your “beau” actually even invited you in?” 

“Don’t be harsh, Beloved. Talia does the best she can with such limited resources.”

Sara grinned, and Nyssa’s heart beat just a little bit faster for that grin of hers. The blonde sighed emphatically, “I know. I was hoping for a battle of wits, but she’s obviously unarmed.”

Again, Talia’s face contorted. “Nyssa, how can you let your whore treat me this way?”

Nyssa looked to Sara, who shrugged and said, “I’ve been called worse by better.”

The brunette adopted a solemn air and looked back at her sister. “I will endeavor to find a suitable punishment, sister dearest,” she promised, then smirked at her girlfriend. 

“Sounds like fun,” Sara commented. “Oh, and, Talia, the Gotham City Zoo called. It’s time for you to go back.”  
  
~

“And then my sister, in her infinite obliviousness, fell into the fountain. Of course, she blamed Sara and screamed that she didn’t belong in the zoo and how unfair that was. There must’ve been a zoo-related incident that we were unaware of. Sara then made some reference to Talia being frigid like a polar bear.” 

Sara laughed. “The best response she could come up with was, “You’re the polar bear!” And then she threw her phone at me.” 

There was no reaction until Nyssa smirked and reiterated, “Talia’s reply was, “You’re the polar bear!”” This time, Dinah and Laurel laughed.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Sara pouted.

“Yes, Beloved, but you said it in Arabic.”

“Oh. Oops.”

“At the risk of seeming ignorant,” Dinah began. “You don’t sound much like an American when you speak Arabic, Sara.”

“Her accent is fairly impressive,” Nyssa agreed. “Not quite that of a native speaker but enough not to call attention to her nationality.”

Grinning, Sara noted, “I had a really good teacher. Besides, when you’re a blonde, blue-eyed, white girl living in the Middle East, you do what you can to fit in as much as possible.” Her eyebrows drew together, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Hey, Laurel, did Sin go to school?”

“Yep. Dropped her off myself.”

“Awesome, thanks! Speaking of, I wonder what this is,” Sara said, reaching for the letter that Sin had set aside the night before. 

It was a reminder about parent-teacher conferences from Sin’s English teacher, full of thinly-veiled disdain and sarcasm. She clearly thought they were pretty bad parents. 

“Alice Carrillo,” Nyssa read aloud. “Has Sin been in her class before?”

“Yeah, I think she had her Freshman year, too. So are we going to this thing?” 

“Um, Sara?” Laurel interjected. “Not that there’d be a problem or anything, but are you sure you want to go? Alice Carrillo is married. She used to be Miss Hunter…”

Dinah’s eyes widened. “Oh my. Alice Hunter? Sweetie, she really didn’t like you.”

Nyssa frowned. “What on earth did you do, Beloved?”

“Nothing!” Sara insisted. “She just didn’t like me. You know what? I don’t give a fuck. I’m going because I am a good parent. And screw her for implying otherwise.” 

Laurel chuckled. “How brave. You know it’s today, right?”

“What?!” Sara looked at Nyssa. “You’re coming with me?”

“If you wish.”

“Yes. Please.”

Their time slot was scheduled for 10:30 AM, so they had an hour to eat breakfast and get ready before Laurel dropped them off in front of the high school on her way to work. Sara looked up at the massive brick building, rolling up the sleeves of the black blazer she’d thrown on in an attempt to look like an adult. 

Nyssa studied her face quizzically. “Are you nervous?”

“Kinda,” Sara admitted. “In high school, teachers have so much power, so coming back is weird. On one hand, it’s liberating to be like, “Ha! I’m free!” But, on the other hand, it’s intimidating, because it still feels like they have some power over you.”

Her hesitation prompted Nyssa to ask if she was sure that she wanted to attend the meeting. Reminding herself why she was there, Sara took her fiancée’s hand and led her inside. She doubted she would ever forget those halls. Too quickly, they were standing in front of her old English classroom. The door was slightly open, but Sara knocked anyway, prolonging the time until she had to face her former teacher. A woman’s voice called for them to come in. 

Nyssa came through first, at which point Mrs. Carrillo glanced up before looking back down at the pile of papers on the large desk in front of her. “Here for Sin?”

Alice Carrillo, née Hunter, was just over forty years old and very average looking: dull brown hair and an unexceptional face. She wasn’t heavy, but she wasn’t thin either, nor was she particularly tall or short. Just average. Which was hardly a bad thing, but Sara hadn’t really noticed it when she was in school; with teachers, she had really only paid attention to how well they did their job and if they were decent humans. 

At the reminder that Nyssa actually looked like she could be Sin’s family, Sara raised her chin defiantly and said, “Yes, _we_ are.”

Alice looked up. “Sara Lance.”

“Miss Hunter.” Sara knew her grip on Nyssa’s hand was probably uncomfortable, but it was all she could do to keep the nervous energy in check. 

“It’s Carrillo now. What are you doing here?”

Sara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Parent-teacher conference? You obviously felt it was important that we come.”

The teacher frowned at her. “You’re too young to be Sin’s parents.”

“The adoption papers say otherwise. And, yeah, way to go, giving an orphan a hard time about her parents.”

“Oh, look, Sara Lance did something magnanimous,” Alice sneered sarcastically. “I’m sure hardship of being an absentee parent is well worth the praise you must receive for being such an exemplary individual. Sorry, I’m not impressed.” 

The Canary pinched the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t about me; I’m here for Sin. If you don’t have anything to say about my child, why are we here?”

“Fine. Take a seat.”

Meanwhile, Sin and Cassie were joined at their lockers by an elated Freddy, their preppy friend, whose wardrobe of pastels balanced Sin’s signature black. Sin raised an eyebrow. “Why do look like you’re about to puke sunshine and rainbows?”

Freddy, with his coiffed chestnut hair and abundance of freckles, dramatically clutched the front of his salmon-colored polo in the general area of his heart. “I just saw the cutest couple. Lesbians. Isn’t that great? I wonder who they are. They’re my new heroes.”

“Okay, you went zero to sixty real quick there, dude. Who says they’re not just normal people? Why do they gotta be some kinda travelin’ circus?” Sin rolled her eyes.

“Wait, so are they adults?” Cassie asked. “Couldn’t they be someone’s parents?”

Freddy shook his head. “Nah, they’re too young.”

Sin paled. “Like thirty?”

“Maybe. Late twenties, early thirties.”

“A blonde and a brunette?”

He nodded.

“Was the blonde short?”

“Jeez, Sin,” Freddy said. “Do you, like, know them?”

Scrubbing a hand over her face and breathing deeply, Sin nodded. “That would be _my_ parents. I gotta go save Sara from Mrs. Carrillo.”

For the past five minutes, Nyssa had been silently grinding her teeth. Sin’s teacher had been condescending and rude to Sara for the entirety of the conversation, and the blonde just sat and took it. In the League, Sara had always met disrespect with a sparring challenge, thereby embarrassing whoever insulted her and proving her worth as a ranking member. Violence might not be the answer now, but Nyssa doubted she could take another snide remark. 

When Alice suggested that Sin might be doing better if she had more encouragement at home, it became clear that Sara was past her breaking point as well. 

“I get it. You think I’m a bad parent. Yeah, I travel a lot, so I’m not sorry that I’d rather spend my free time with my kid than here at conferences and PTA meetings. But you had a problem with me before any of that applied, so what the hell did fifteen year-old Sara do to make you hate me so much?” 

“I don’t hate you,” her former teacher denied. “What frustrated me was how much praise you got when all you did was use your looks and natural intellect to coast through life with minimal effort. And, apparently, you still live that way. Don’t kid yourself into thinking you’ve raised Sin. You skipped ahead of the hard stuff to take responsibility for someone who’s already very independent and nearly an adult herself.”

Before Sara could even open her mouth, Nyssa stood up, planting her palms on the desk menacingly. “Excuse me, but I must have misunderstood something.”

Alice blinked, seeming to register the former assassin for the first time since Sara entered the room. 

“To begin with, we may not have changed Sin’s diapers, but you have no authority to comment on the validity of Sara’s role in Sin’s life over the past seven years, seeing as you know next to nothing about either of them. Furthermore, I must not have the correct definition for coasting. Because there is no way that word, as I understand it, could be applied to what this woman has experienced.

“To even imply that she has led an easy life suggests astounding incompetence. You are aware she survived being lost at sea, are you not? And perhaps you notice that I am not male? Gay marriage may be legal here, but, in my part of the world, where we often travel for work, homosexuality is a crime punishable by _stoning_. And do you see this?” Nyssa turned over her and Sara’s joined hands, revealing one of several long, white scars along Sara’s forearm. “I sincerely doubt you, with your simple, routine life, can even begin to understand the hardships Sara Lance has endured. Do not dare question the content of her character simply because you are jealous of something so trivial as her appearance.”

Sara stared at her fiancée in awe for a moment, then she stood up and said, “Let’s go.” When the door to the classroom shut behind them, she reached out for Nyssa’s other hand and pulled her close. “You are amazing.”

Nyssa’s mouth twitched between a smile and a frown. “What does that mean?” But Sara didn’t even have to ask to get the much needed explanation, “That is, I know what it means to be a normal person between missions, but what am I without the purpose that has always defined me?”

“You don’t need a life-threatening occupation to validate normalcy. I think we’ve been through more than enough to appreciate whatever life we chose to lead. I sure as hell won’t think any less of you if you never pick up a bow again. Just means more time to do other things. And I like other things.”

“Sara,” Nyssa warned, glancing around at the students trickling in and out of classrooms. 

“What? I’m talking about bowling. I like bowling,” Sara smirked. “I also like you and your good heart and your cleverness and the way you make me feel okay with who I am. That used to kinda scare me—being okay with the darkness inside me—but I guess I needed my family to make me realize that we’ve all got our own shit, and the best you can do is find someone who loves you for who you are, keep moving forward, and try to do more good than bad. So “You’re amazing” means _thank you_ and _I love you_. Okay?”

Nyssa smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always. Now let’s get out of here.”

“Sara?”

They turned to see a man who must’ve been in his mid-fifties. Sara grinned widely. “Mr. Shaughnessy! No way!” She briefly released Nyssa’s hands to give him a hug, reaching for one again when she stepped back. 

“It’s so good to see you. And this is?” He tilted his head, smiling. 

Sara smiled proudly. “Nyssa, this is Mr. Shaughnessy, my old history teacher. Mr. Shaughnessy, this is Nyssa, my fiancée.”  
He reached out and shook Nyssa’s hand, laughing, “The free spirit, Sara Lance, is settling down? I’m happy for you, kiddo.”

Sin leaned against the lockers waiting for Sara and Nyssa to finish their conversation with Mr. Shaughnessy. A couple feet away, she could hear the captain of the football team talking to his pack of jock friends. He’d noticed her parents and was describing the things he wanted to do to them. The list didn’t exactly include making polite conversation. His friends were laughing, but Sin was seething. 

“Shut up,” she finally hissed.

He sneered at her. “You got a problem?” 

“No, but you will if ya don’t shut it, dickwad.” 

“Mind your own business, prude.”

Pushing off the lockers to face him, she scowled. “Your annoying voice invading my airspace makes it my business. So—one more time—shut up or you’re gonna be in a world o’ pain.”

“I wish I had two dicks, so I could fuck ‘em at the same time. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Deciding that the potential consequences would be worth it, Sin crossed the hall, used her momentum, and punched him in the stomach. After half a second of shock and confusion, he came at her with a shout. That got the attention of the adults, and, in the blink of an eye, they were there, tearing the teenagers apart. 

Sara knew Sin could hold her own, but she instinctively went to check for injuries, hands tightly gripping the girl’s upper arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sar. I’m fine. You should be worried about him.”

“Well, I’m not.”

The boy was fighting against Nyssa, who had him pinned to the lockers. Mr. Shaughnessy crossed his arms and asked, “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

“It’s her fault!”

“Really? Because what I witnessed was you using some pretty unacceptable language and charging a girl half your size. Since everyone appears unhurt, I will let you off with a detention, but, in the future, keep the tackling on the field and out of my hallways. I believe that’s sufficient, unless there are any objections?”

Fuming, the boy shook his head. Before letting him go, Nyssa hissed, low enough that only he could hear, “Lay a finger on my little girl, and I will not hesitate to snap your neck.” He refused to run, but he walked away pretty fast, looking back nervously until he rounded the corner. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Sara said. “This is _not_ the kind of behavior we encourage.”

If Mr. Shaughnessy was surprised to see his former student in parental mode, he kept it to himself. He simply nodded, offered well-wishes, and walked away to give them some space. 

“Sorry,” Sin muttered. “It’s just, the stuff he was saying…”

Sara flinched. “About you?”

“No, about you. Both of you.” 

Nyssa sighed. “Sin, you have to control your temper.”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me, after that whole thing with Roy…I get how dangerous anger can be.”

“Good,” replied Sara. “Think about that next time someone provokes you. Remember what Roy went through, and be glad you have the luxury of walking away.”

Sin looked at her, confused. “Is that all? You’re not gonna ground me?”

Smiling softly, Nyssa brushed a stray lock of hair off the teen’s face. “I believe the black eye you’ll soon have will earn you enough of a reprimand from Thea and Roy. We are just glad that you’re okay.” 

And then the bell rang. Sin looked around. “Crap, I gotta go. Love you guys.”

“Love you, too. Bye,” Sara called as the girl sprinted down the hall. Taking Nyssa’s hand again and leading her out of the building, Sara remarked, “Fuck anyone who says the teenage years are easier.”

Nyssa nodded. “Indeed. Where to now, Beloved?”

Sara looked up, a gleam in her eye. “I have an idea.”

They walked about a block from the high school and came to a small collection of shops and restaurants. After instructing Nyssa to wait outside, Sara ducked into a small bakery. Through the glass storefront, Nyssa watched the blonde greet a woman who seemed to be about their age. When they hugged, Nyssa stomped down her jealousy, watching as Sara smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck. The other woman laughed and nodded at whatever she said, and Sara gestured for Nyssa to come in. 

“Nys, this is Abigail, an old friend of mine.”

Shaking Nyssa’s hand, Abigail said, “It’s nice to meet you. And wow, Sara. Laurel wasn’t kidding when she said you have better taste than the rest of us. Anyway, go on. I got customers.”

Laughing, Sara grabbed Nyssa’s arm and dragged her to the back of the store and into a fairly spacious storage closet. Nyssa quirked an eyebrow. “Sara Lance, please tell me that you haven’t taken me somewhere where you’ve had sex with other people.”

“God no. I’m not that much of an asshole. I dunno about Laurel or Abigail, but nothin’ more than kissing happened here for me. That okay?”

“No,” Nyssa grumbled halfheartedly. 

Sara grinned. “Aw, come on.” She kissed Nyssa’s neck. “I gotta thank you for that stupid meeting. And this morning. And we’re kinda out of places to go.” 

Nyssa acquiesced and soon found herself gripping one of the shelves for support. Then her phone started to ring. “It’s Felicity,” she sighed. 

“Don’t answer it.”

“Something might be wrong.”

“Don’t answer it. Don’t—”

“Felicity?” Nyssa’s breath hitched as Sara went back to what she’d been doing, but she didn’t stop her. “No, I’m fine. Is everything alright?…O-oh? Really?…That—that’s great, actually…Y–yes, thank you for—for letting me know…I will tell Sara…Yes, we will be back tonight…Goodbye, Felicity.” She hung up and groaned, “Sara, I–I–I’m… _Oh, fuck._ ”

Sara blinked up at her fiancée in shock, and they both regained power of speech at about the same time, though for different reasons. “Did you just say fuck?”

“I am entirely capable of using vulgar language, my love,” Nyssa replied, kissing her.

“That was hot. I have a new life’s purpose, and it’s to make you swear as often as possible. What did Felicity want?” 

“Their neighbors are moving.”

“Really? No way! That’s awesome! And that’s a really nice house, too. With lots of land and everything. So we’re making an offer?”

Nyssa laughed. “A pair of queer ex-assassins and their adoptive teenage daughter, who live in a nice house with a white picket fence, spend their days making love and their nights fighting crime as costumed vigilantes with their band of superhero friends. I do believe that is the American dream.” 

“Damn straight,” Sara giggled. 

They grinned at each other, leaving the storage closet and heading toward the front door of the bakery.

And then Sara turned green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! It's a pseudo cliffhanger(?)
> 
> I'll try to update asap. 
> 
> Anyway, a few of these characters are references to the DC Universe: Abigail is vaguely named for Abigail Hunkle, the Red Tornado. One of Sin's friends is fellow Titan Cassandra Sandsmark, aka Wonder Girl.


	9. Up All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know the drill by now.
> 
>  
> 
> And, to anyone who's a stickler for scientific accuracy, I _know_. But keep in mind that this is a universe with a boy who can run faster than the speed of light and a man who lived for centuries by taking bubble baths in some random pit water. I think the liberties I've taken are within reason.

Nyssa held Sara’s hair while she puked in the bathroom of the bakery, as any good significant other would. Her hands shook, and, as soon as the throwing up ceased, she asked, “Are you alright, Beloved? What’s wrong?”

Sara wiped her mouth and grimaced. “So I guess breakfast and I didn’t get along…”

“Sara,” Nyssa admonished. “What is it?”

“I don’t even want to think it, let alone say it out loud.”

Nyssa tilted her head in question as the blonde rinsed her mouth out vigorously. 

Sara met her eyes in the mirror. “It couldn’t possibly be…It’s way too soon.”

“For what, Beloved?”

“Morning sickness.”

The former assassin blanched. Then, she whipped out her phone.

Sara leaned against Nyssa’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” 

“Calling our young friend in crimson. We need to see someone we can trust.”

Barry left Central City while still on the phone with Nyssa, and he arrived in the bakery half a second after they hung up. He picked up Sara and promised Nyssa, “I’ll be right back for you.”

“Well,” Sara commented. “This is much more convenient than the train.”

Grinning, Barry replied, “Happy to help.”

“You know, if you drop me, she’ll gut you.”

“Trying not to think about that. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sara.” 

Sara patted the young man’s shoulder. “I believe in you, Barry.” He deposited her carefully inside S.T.A.R. Labs, and Sara’s head spun a little—less from Barry’s speed than from the queasiness that persisted in the pit of her stomach. In less than the few breaths that it took to regain her balance, Nyssa was beside her, looking a little flustered. Barry kicked at a random piece of equipment awkwardly before announcing that he’d go find Caitlin. Sara took Nyssa’s hand and whispered, “It shouldn’t even be detectable yet, so we can’t be discouraged if this doesn’t go the way we want. We really can’t expect anything. It’s probably just something I ate.” Nyssa nodded and kissed Sara’s hand. 

Caitlin appeared very abruptly, accompanied by a whoosh and fluttering papers, and said a warm hello to the two women unexpectedly waiting at her examination table. “So, what brings you here?”

Sara hesitated, looking for the right words. “I guess we should start simple. I might be pregnant. Maybe. But it hasn’t been very long since…y’know…so…”

“Let’s take a look,” Caitlin offered, ever the professional. Nyssa and Sara leaned against the examination table while Caitlin gathered the necessary supplies. 

Sara glanced down at her ultra-flat belly, feeling ridiculous for wasting Caitlin’s time. Caitlin held a sample cup out, and Sara quipped, “Aren’t you gonna take out some gel and tell me it might be cold?”

The doctor rolled her eyes. “That is a stupid cliché. You should run far and fast from any doctor thoughtless enough not to warm up the gel. And the ultrasounds are further down the road.”

So Sara peed in a cup and waited while Caitlin puttered around the lab. Instead of looking at a monitor she couldn’t understand, Sara kept her eyes trained on Nyssa, watching the uncertainty and nervousness and hope in her fiancée’s eyes. 

After what felt like ages, Caitlin said, “Congratulations! You’re pregnant.” She grinned at them. 

Nyssa kissed Sara for what was probably too long, considering this wasn’t Caitlin’s field, and she likely wasn’t used to such displays from her patients—patient, really. But it still didn’t feel like enough to convey how she felt in that moment. And then they parted, and Caitlin hugged them. 

“So,” Caitlin asked, “How did you know? It _is_ pretty early.”

“Morning sickness,” Nyssa supplied.

“At two weeks? Wow, that’s rather uncommon.” 

Sara stood up so fast that she had to sit back down to stop the dizziness. “Two weeks? That’s not possible.”

“Well, that’s where your hormone levels are,” Caitlin replied, furrowing her eyebrows. “Are you sure it’s not possible?”

“Positive. It’s been a day and a half since…” Sara mimed a syringe. 

Caitlin spun and sat down at her computer. “One second. I have to check something.” 

Sara started fidgeting until Nyssa put a calming hand over hers. The brunette whispered in Arabic, “It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Alright,” Caitlin said, “It seems like there’s some kind of accelerant that sped up the early part of the process. You used CADMUS technology? Then this makes sense. They probably do it to get a better success rate, because test tubes are less forgiving than wombs for what they’re doing. You might experience more extreme symptoms, but this should otherwise be a pretty normal pregnancy.”

“Uh, now that I’m pregnant, do I have to start using words like _womb_? Because I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Caitlin laughed, and Nyssa rolled her eyes but chuckled as well. 

“Dios mío, what did I just walk in on?” Cisco poked his head into the room, a greasy rag in his hands. “Wait, is that a pee sample? Oh man, Sara! Did your appendix rupture, or are you pregnant? I’m guessing pregnant, because those look like happy tears, not tears of excruciating pain. Dude!”

“There’s like zero point zero percent chance of this staying secret, huh?” Sara asked Caitlin. 

The other woman smiled and said sweetly, “Cisco, if you tell anyone, I will break all of your favorite toys with a hammer.”

“Ay, jeez! Okay. I won’t tell. It’s still super exciting. And, y’know, Cisco is a pretty nice name. Just a thought.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Several minutes later, as the ex-assassins walked hand in hand towards Jitters, Sara remarked, “If we have a boy, we are _not_ naming him Cisco.”

“Certainly,” Nyssa replied. “One Cisco is plenty.”

“I like the name Timothy. Like Tim Burton. He’s cool. Or Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol. He’s my favorite.”

“How unsurprising that your favorite character is small,” said Nyssa affectionately, pulling Sara closer. 

The blonde stuck out her tongue. “How rude.”

“Timothy is nice. Timothy Drake.”

Sara grinned. “This is amazing.”

Nyssa smiled but looked toward the back of the coffee shop like she was thinking about something else. 

“What’s up?” Sara asked. 

“It is nothing.”

“Babe…”

“It’s no–” Nyssa sighed. “I need to use the restroom.” 

Sara pulled a face. “And that’s a problem because…?”

“I do not want to leave your side. Not ever again.”

Shaking her head, Sara said, “Go to the bathroom, Nys.”

Nyssa walked away reluctantly, and Sara took a seat at one of the high top tables and drummed her fingers on the plasticky surface, looking at the cafe’s menu and wondering why she suddenly wanted coffee now that she couldn’t have it.

“Hello, little bird.”

“Gah, Talia!” Sara jumped up and into a weird mock martial arts pose, caught off guard by the appearance of Nyssa’s sister.

Talia laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Taer al Asfer. Or should I call you Sara, now that the League is no more?”

Sara blinked in confusion. “Huh? Why does it seem like you don’t hate me?”

Talia rolled her eyes, twisting her ponytail and retying it. “I never hated you, little bird. I was simply frustrated with my general surroundings. You must remember, it was not until just before you came along that my father decided to revoke my right as Heir and give the title to Nyssa instead.”

“Yeah, I guess that must’ve sucked.”

“Verily.”

The Canary kicked the linoleum with the toe of her pristinely white Converse. “Wait, what about that time…you walked in on…”

Talia raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine walking in on your sister with someone who you did not even know she was seeing—or, more accurately, as Nyssa is my baby sister, can you imagine Sin?”

“Oh god. No. No no no. Ew. No. None of those. Um,” Sara rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry? I’m not sure what to say.”

“It’s alright,” her fellow ex-assassin shrugged. “She loves you. And you, her, correct?”

“More than anything.”

“Then what more could a sister ask?”

Sara grinned. “Man, mine could take lessons on forgiveness from you. Oh, seeing as you don’t actually hate me, I don’t suppose you’ll be around over the next few months? Nys and I are sorta, like, planning something.”

“What for? Some kind of party?” 

“We’re kinda getting married,” Sara replied, holding up her left hand. 

Grinning, Talia shrugged. “I’m sure I can clear my schedule.” She looked up from the ring, smirking. “I suppose, if you will be marrying my sister, I should endeavor not to feed you to any more alligators.”

“It was a crocodile.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I rescind the offer. Any other massive revelations?”

“Um, actually, yeah. That’s why we’re in Central City, really. Just visited a doctor friend.”

Talia’s eyes widened. “What? Are you ill? Is Nyssa? What’s wrong?”

Sara laughed. “God, you are so much like your sister. It’s not bad news. I’m kinda pregnant. Well, I mean, I’m definitely pregnant. And Laurel is gonna _kill_ me for telling you first.”

“Pregnant? And who’s the father? Please tell me it’s not that Queen boy—Thea’s brother?” 

“Oh, ew. No. No father. How familiar are you with Project CADMUS? I don’t suppose Dick mentioned that the Titans raided the facility recently?”

The woman, who Sara had only recently thought to be her enemy, wrapped her in a hug. “Oh, Sara! Congratulations! This is wonderful.” 

“Thanks, Talia. Really. Thank you.” An idea occurred to her. “Hey, you know Nyssa’s birthday is coming up, right?”

Talia raised an eyebrow again.

“Right. Of course you know. I had something in mind, but I need help. Lots of it. I hear you’re pretty good with a camera.”

Eyes lighting up, Talia nodded. “I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

 

Were it possible for a trained international assassin to have a panic attack, Nyssa would have on account of the sight she was met with when she exited the restroom. Her sister, Talia al Ghul, was not only standing in Jitters, but happily exchanging phone numbers with an equally enthusiastic Sara Lance. Nyssa’s stomach dropped. Her sister had told her, shortly after their father declared her his new heir, that she was lucky she led such an empty life, because she took the thing Talia valued most, and it would be instructive for her to understand how that felt.

It was that very threat that inspired Nyssa’s own brash response to Sara leaving several years later. But, though she’d experienced that feeling—of having that which she cared most about ripped away—Sara had returned. Her heart was healing. Talia might very well pursue the opportunity to follow through with the veiled threat. The League didn’t train its members to be sympathetic. Not that she didn’t trust Sara, but she’d never expected her Beloved to even tolerate her sister, and, yet, here they were. 

Nyssa took a deep breath, steeled herself and walked over to them. “Hello, Talia,” she said curtly. “Sara, it’s time to go.”

“Nys, come on, it’s fine. Talia was just saying—”

“We’re leaving.”

Sara looked taken aback. “Nyssa!”

“It’s alright, Sara,” Talia said. “She has every right not to want to speak to me.”

Nyssa’s lip curled in disgust. “Yes, I do.” She turned away. “Sara. We have to leave.”

With an apologetic look back at Talia, Sara whispered, “I’ll call you.” Then she followed Nyssa out and into the alley, where Barry came to zip them home, ever the helpful friend. Sara got dropped first and didn’t wait for Nyssa, instead walking up Oliver’s street and ignoring the tell-tale whoosh that signaled her and Barry’s arrival. 

“Um, I’m gonna go say hi to Oliver and Felicity,” Barry said, though neither woman was listening. Then, he was gone, and they were alone. Or not…

“Excuse me,” a voice called out. “Are you Sara and Nyssa?” 

Oliver’s neighbor, a man in his late sixties, stood in the doorway of his house carrying a moving box. “Felicity told me you’d be interested in living here? It’s lucky that I bumped into you! I’m just here picking up the last of the stuff we’re taking with us. The house won’t be fully furnished, but there’ll be an awful lot.”

“Oh.” Sara wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s very nice.”

“You’re welcome to spend the night and see how you feel about it. Honestly, we haven’t put it on the market yet, and I’d much rather sell to a nice young family who we know will appreciate it.” The man—Sara was pretty sure his name was, like, Jerry—smiled kindly. “You’re close with Oliver and Felicity, right? So this would really be a perfect fit, huh?”

“For sure!” Sin called out, strolling up the street with Thea and Roy. She had Sara’s duffle bag slung over her shoulder and Roy had Nyssa’s. “Hey Sar, Nys. Where ya been all afternoon? How ya doin’, Perry?” 

Ah, Perry. That was it.

“Hello, Cindy! Things are good. So, will you continue to mow this lawn if it belongs your parents, or did I get special treatment?”

Sin grinned. “Well, now they know I’ve done that for ya, so I gotta, don’t I?”

“Absolutely,” Nyssa replied with a nod. She took her bag from Roy, and Sara mirrored the action with her own bag. 

Thea hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “So you guys are staying the night here? Because I should let Felicity know to stop trying to burn the house down. She's cooking for an army. It’s terrifying.”

Sara glanced at Nyssa, who looked at the house instead of meeting her eye. Truthfully, she had no house, no car, and no independence, and it had her feeling trapped, which was taking a toll on her patience. Now, she was a little ticked off by Nyssa’s behavior. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to play nice and deal with other people. She pasted on her best and brightest look of excitement and replied, managing not to grit her teeth, “Yes, actually. Spending the night here sounds great, doesn’t it, babe?”

“Certainly,” Nyssa agreed. No one else seemed to notice anything amiss, but Sara could feel the tension acutely, and she seethed silently. Thea and Roy continued up the street, Roy already dialing the nearest take-out place in anticipation of Felicity’s cooking. 

“Right, then,” Perry said. “I’ll drop this box in the car and give you a tour.” 

So he did, leading Sin, Sara, and Nyssa through the beautiful house. It was kind of endearing the way he and Sin shared inside jokes, but Sara had a hard time focusing on anything besides the dull waves of queasiness and her general annoyance. It didn’t help that Nyssa was faring much better, actually engaging in the conversation between Sin and Perry and commenting on details throughout the house.

At one point, Sara quietly scoffed at something Nyssa said. She didn’t expect anyone to hear her and failed to notice Sin flinch. When they finished the tour about a minute later, Sin announced, “Have fun, guys. I promised Thea that I’d have a scary movie marathon with her tonight, so I’ll be spending the night there.” Not entirely a lie. It had been more of a we-should-do-this-someday than a specific plan. But her parents didn’t need to know that. “Love ya.” Then she bolted before anyone could protest. It was for the best. One of them was going to explode the second Perry left, and she needed to get out of the blast radius. 

 

Thea walked into her room, intent on grabbing a sweater and going to pick up the take-out, only to find Sin sitting on her bed, flipping through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. She rubbed her eyes. “Uh, Sin?”

“Hey. You needa get better readin’ material. This is terrible.”

“I think it’s supposed to be,” Thea replied, kicking off her shoes and hopping on the bed to look over Sin’s shoulder. “I thought you were checking out the house with Sara and Nyssa?”

“Was. Remember when you asked me if they ever fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my survival kit is at Laurel’s, so I’m staying here tonight.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “It can’t be that bad.”

Sin pushed off the bed. “FELICITY?” She walked out to the kitchen with Thea close behind. “Yo, can you hack home surveillance systems?”

Felicity narrowed her eyes, looking offended. “What do you take me for? That’s child’s play.”

“Alright,” Sin said with a shrug. “What’s goin’ on next door?” After thinking about it for a second, she added, “Just the audio.” She braced herself as Felicity’s fingers flew across her keyboard. There was a crackle of static, and then…

_“WHAT THE FUCK, NYSSA?!”_

Thea winced. “Okay, you can turn down the volume.”

“It’s on low,” Felicity squeaked, tapping the volume key to demonstrate her point. 

Sara’s voice came through again, half an octave too high as she shouted, _“Please, enlighten m—Will you put that fucking thing down and look at me, for Christ’s sake?”_

The sound of something slamming onto a solid surface was accompanied by the crunch of plastic and more swearing from Sara. 

Nyssa hissed something in Arabic. Neither Thea nor Felicity had ever heard her so angry. Sin sighed, “Ooh, Nys is quiet. That’s not a great sign. Yeah, the rest of the conversation’s gonna be in Arabic.”

Felicity flinched. “I could—”

“Don’t bother using a translator,” Sin cut her off. “It’s better not to know.”

Oliver walked in then, accompanied by John Diggle, and asked, “What’s going on here?” 

Dig’s eyes widened when he heard the fight being broadcast through Felicity’s speakers. “Sin, can you understand this?”

“Eh, bits an’ pieces.”

“Should we…” Oliver hesitated. “Should we intervene?”

The teen shook her head. “Best to let them work through it. I tried to play moderator once. That’s a mistake I’ll _never_ make again.”

Oliver squinted suspiciously. “Sin, what happened to your eye?”

“Ugh, don’t even start, dude. I already got a lecture from your sister and Abercrombie.”

“Really, Thea? Do you remember how much shit you gave Mom when she tried parenting you?” Oliver laughed, and Thea shrugged at him. They all jumped when Sara swore loudly.

Thea rubbed her own shoulder nervously. “If I didn’t know how much they love each other, I’d be seriously worried about finding a body in the yard tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I still worry bout that sometimes,” Sin agreed, reaching across to terminate Felicity’s program with a few keystrokes. “But it’ll be fine. They never go to bed angry.”

“Hey!” Felicity yelped, staring at her screen. 

“Trust me, you didn’t want to leave that on,” Sin promised. 

 

Next door, Sara’s fingers curled and uncurled, itching to hit something. “Talia is your _sister_ , Nyssa! Doesn’t she deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

Nyssa growled, “What is your obsession with family and blood ties?”

“Family is important!” Sara shouted. 

“No, Sara. _Your_ family is important.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You value family above all else,” Nyssa snarled. “Did it ever occur to you that I might not feel the same way?”

“Wow, Nyssa. Really? It’s a good thing I’m fucking pregnant, then, isn’t it?”

“That is _not_ what I meant.”

Sara paced like a caged animal—a disconcertingly stark contrast to Nyssa, who barely flinched even as the blonde yelled, “What then? Huh? ‘Cause I must be missing something. Just say it. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

Looking her in the eye, Nyssa said, her voice deceptively calm, “I would choose you over Talia. Every time.”

“ _Oh_. Okay. Ouch.” Sara’s fingers slid across her breastbone, almost as if the words actually physically caused her pain. This wasn’t the first time her worst mistake to date had come up, of course. While Sara didn’t regret reuniting with her family, she _did_ very much regret not trusting Nyssa enough to talk to her after hearing about the earthquake. About as much as she regretted trying to drown her heartbreak by hooking up with Oliver. Which was a hell of a lot of regret for a person to carry around. Her first words to Nyssa when she’d finally had an opportunity to grovel were, “I will _always_ love you,” followed by, “I am _so_ sorry.” Time would eventually heal this wound, but it was still too soon to be more than a band-aid. And sometimes band-aids come unstuck. 

“I know that is not the choice you were making,” Nyssa sighed. “I know it was not that simple.”

“But it felt that simple.” Sara stated. It was part question, part comprehension. 

Nyssa shrugged noncommittally. “Feels, at times.”

“Okay,” Sara said in English, more to herself than to Nyssa. “Let’s just take a breath.” She found the cabinet that housed drink-ware and filled two glasses of water, sighing internally in relief when Nyssa accepted the glass she held out. She switched back to Arabic. “You know I was scared. Of what I was becoming; of never seeing my family again. Yeah?” 

Nyssa nodded.

“And you know that I’m unequivocally, irrevocably yours. They’re my family, but without you my life is not worth living.” Sara waited for another nod. It came reluctantly, and she knew that Nyssa would’ve argued against that last part in less tense circumstances. “So what’s going on? Why does me getting along with Talia bother you so much? She’s not even my family. Not yet, anyway.”

There was an excruciatingly long silence, during which Nyssa turned away and leaned back against the marble-topped island, her back to Sara. If Sara didn’t know her so well, she probably would’ve thought Nyssa was blowing her off; she might’ve tried to break her concentration; she definitely wouldn’t have picked up on the subtle movement of her shoulders that meant Nyssa was crying—or, at the very least, trying hard not to. 

But, as well as Sara knew Nyssa, she still had no idea what she was supposed to do when the love of her life started to cry. So she sat down on the unfamiliar kitchen floor, and she cried, too. 

Sara had nearly cried herself to sleep on the cold tile when Nyssa finally spoke. “From the beginning, we were so very different, you and I, that I could not fathom what connected us. Then you told me about your sister. You used to talk about how, if Laurel knew you were alive, she’d hate you for what you had done. I understood that, because my older sister hated me for what I had done. For usurping the title of Heir to the Demon. Other times, you would talk about how close you and Laurel had been when you were young. I understood that, too. And so I thought I understood the tie that bound us.

“And then you left, out of concern for your family. And reasonably so. They needed you. Laurel, especially. But, in doing so, you proved wrong the entire basis of our relationship as I understood it. Now, knowing Laurel, I see that she is not at all as I imagined. She is nothing like my own sister, so why shouldn’t you want her in your life? That, I can rationalize. But for you to so easily form a relationship with _my_ sister…” 

“Oh, Nyssa,” Sara sniffled, doing a much poorer job of hiding the fact that she was crying. “You should’ve told me. I always want to know if something’s bothering you; it’s hard to make it better if you don’t talk to me.” She scrambled up off the floor and walked around the counter to stand in front of Nyssa, grabbing the brunette’s hand and pressing it over her own heart. “I love you. That’s forever. _Nobody_ will ever get in the way of that.” Then she leaned up, softly kissed the other woman, and walked away.

Nyssa stood stock-still for several seconds, debating whether to follow Sara or wait for her to come back on her own. Having decided to wait, she had tidied up the kitchen and was putting the glasses in the dishwasher when Sara reappeared. The blonde cleared her throat, and Nyssa glanced up and did a double-take. 

One hand on her hip, Sara stood in the doorway, wearing the lacy, black lingerie she’d just bought and trying to mask uncharacteristic self-consciousness. “C’mere,” she beckoned. 

Powerless to refuse, Nyssa walked over and slid her warm hands around Sara’s pale, bare waist. “You, Sara Lance, do not play fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Sara grinned. “And please, you could be wearing a potato sack, and you’d still be the sexiest person on this planet. I’m just trying to even the playing field.”

Nyssa dragged her gaze up Sara’s body and met her blue eyes. Her own brown ones were darker than usual, and she growled a very common accusation between them; “Flatterer.” Then she added, “Consider the scales decisively tipped in your favor.”

In spite of having the advantage that Sara was already in her underwear, Nyssa was distracted with committing the image to memory, so Sara had the brunette out of her clothes in record time. She initially hissed at the cold tiles against her back, but the heat radiating off their bodies quickly nullified that issue. They savored the privacy but were far too impatient to leave the kitchen. Half an hour later, Nyssa was sitting back against the refrigerator, and Sara faced her, their legs intertwined and foreheads together, breathing heavily. 

Nyssa gave Sara a slow, easy smile. “As much as I loathe fighting with you, I can’t say I hate this part.”

In response, Sara just hummed her agreement and tilted her head for a kiss. Eventually, she said, “In all seriousness, I can live with the fighting as long as it ends with us together, makeup sex or not. But, yeah, this _is_ fun.”

The usually demure daughter of Ra’s al Ghul actually wiggled her eyebrows. “Fun? Is that all?”

The doorbell rang, and Sara’s eyes flashed. “I swear to god…”

Nyssa smiled. “That would be the pizza, Beloved.”

“Pizza?”

“I figured we would want sustenance, so I called while you were in the other room.”

Sara grinned, standing up, plucking Nyssa’s sweater off the coffee maker, and pulling it on. It was barely long enough but would be acceptable coverage for the occasion. “There was a time you would’ve scoffed at calling pizza sustenance.” She walked toward the front door. 

“I’ve adapted.”

Sara opened the door and came face to face with a boy who looked to be about Sin’s age. He had chestnut hair and more freckles than she did, and he was staring at her open-mouthed. Sara tilted her head. “Um…hi?” Then she realized what she was missing. She called back into the house, “Babe, I need my wallet.”

The boy straightened. “Aren’t you…” He trailed off, eyes the size of saucers.

Nyssa appeared at Sara’s shoulder, the fringe of the afghan that she’d wrapped around herself brushing the blonde’s right calf. “How much is it?” she asked the wide-eyed delivery boy, who blinked and looked her in the eye. 

“Uh…how mu–Oh, eight fifty,” the boy stuttered. “You’re Sin’s parents.”

“Yeah!” Sara said brightly. “You know her?” 

He grinned. “She’s, like, one of my best friends. I love Sin.”

“We do, too,” Nyssa remarked, slipping a few extra bills out of Sara’s wallet and handing the money over to the boy. She smiled softly, accepting the pizza box he handed her. “Have a nice night.”

“Thanks! You too!”

Sara waved and shut the door, turning to face Nyssa. “That was sweet.” She laughed. “Oh, that explains…Nys, babe, this is practically see-through.” She traced a finger around her fiancée’s very visible right nipple and quirked an eyebrow, smirking as Nyssa shuddered. 

“Right now, I do not care,” Nyssa rasped.

“Mhm, me neither.”

That night, Nyssa said “son of a—” and Sara insisted that it counted for something, so she pulled out her phone and added it to a note as a bullet point under the date and the previous bullet, “Fuck”. Nyssa was almost surprised at how seriously Sara was taking the whole expletive endeavor until she remembered that this was Sara, and of course her Beloved would do such a thing. 

When the first rays of morning light backlit the crimson curtains of the master bedroom like an outline of fire, Sara shifted back in bed, pressing more firmly into Nyssa. This was what home felt like. She whispered, “We don’t havta talk about it if you don’t want, but I think you should give Talia a chance. She genuinely cares about you.”

“I know,” Nyssa sighed.

“You know?”

Nodding, the former assassin acknowledged that, “Being the Heir was never as important to her as she purported. We were quite close as children. Logically, I knew she didn’t hate me, just as you knew, in your heart, that Laurel wouldn’t really hate you. But you have a tendency to make me illogical, Beloved.”

“You’re kinda ridiculous,” Sara laughed. “Good thing I’m kinda ridiculous, too. Hey, on a different note, do you, um, think we have, like, too much sex?”

“What answer do you possibly expect?” Nyssa smirked, pressing a kiss to the new bite mark on Sara’s left shoulder. 

Turning her head, Sara nuzzled the brunette’s temple. “I know. I just…I’d hate to wear it out or whatever. Like, I don’t want you to get bored, y’know?”

“No,” Nyssa mumbled tiredly. “I do not know. It has been eight years, and the fire burns bright as ever. I can say with confidence that I will never tire of you, Sara Lance. Body or mind. I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Always.”

 

Sin woke up that morning to two texts from Freddy, which she read while shoveling cereal into her mouth, rushing to get ready for school. 

 

 

> **Freddy** 6h ago
> 
> Your moms are the coolest 
> 
>  

> **Freddy** 5h ago
> 
> Completely unrelated: 4 times so far
> 
> this week couples have answered the
> 
> door 4 pizza barely clothed. It’s only
> 
> tues. I’m worried where this is headed. 

 

The teen sighed and banged her head softly on Felicity’s kitchen table. 

 

 

> **Sin** now
> 
> Dude. Why.
> 
>  
> 
> **Sin** now
> 
> Nobody ever wants to be reminded
> 
> that their parents have sex. Thanks
> 
> for that.
> 
>  
> 
> **Freddy** now
> 
> I said unrelated!!
> 
>  
> 
> **Sin** now
> 
> Yeah, but I know them. It definitely 
> 
> wasn’t unrelated
> 
>  
> 
> **Freddy** now
> 
> So they’re usually like that? I think 
> 
> there was a bra on the ceiling fan. 
> 
> Pretty good distance. Coach Ty would
> 
> be impressed haha
> 
>  
> 
> **Sin** now
> 
> LALALALALALA I’M NOT LISTENING
> 
> TO YOU!!!!!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> **Freddy** now
> 
> Lol ok. See you at school
> 
>  
> 
> **Sin** now
> 
> Yeah yeah whatever. I’ll be late. Have
> 
> to add bleaching my brain to my
> 
> morning routine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of averse to writing conflict, but I'm working on it, for the sake of authenticity. Thoughts?  
> (And I realize that's probably not what you want, but Sin and Thea made good points. We can always count on Sara and Nyssa working through it.)
> 
> Now that the pregnancy has been confirmed, they've really got an incentive to plan this wedding, so…
> 
> Oh, and if you can recognize the song reference in this chapter, you win major brownie points.


	10. Sabotage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel is devious, and Nyssa learns some things about Sara.

The first thing Sara saw when she opened her eyes was a tanned calf—one she knew better than her own. Nyssa was lying on her back with her left knee—the one directly above Sara’s face—bent and her nose in a book. Her right leg was draped across Sara’s chest and pinned there by one of the blonde’s arms. Sara nudged Nyssa’s calf with her nose. “How the heck did this happen?”

“I am not sure, but it’s fortuitous that you are awake, as my leg is very much not.”

Sara laughed, releasing her hold on her fiancée’s thigh. “You could’ve moved, y’know. I would’ve understood.”

With a chuckle, Nyssa shook her head and replied, “You underestimate your own strength, Beloved. Don’t worry, I’m sure I will survive.” 

Wriggling out from under the limp weight of the brunette’s leg, Sara grinned. “Glad to hear it. Jeez, I slept like the dead. Can’t tell if this is an amazing mattress, or I was that tired.” 

“Did you get enough rest? We have no obligations this morning. You are welcome to go back to sleep.” 

“Nah, I’m up. Where’s my phone?” Sara stretched across the bed and felt around blindly for her cellphone. When she found it, she hit the standby button and swore, thumbing through a long list of notifications. “It’s only ten-thirty. What do they want from us?” 

Without looking up from her book, Nyssa reached out and skimmed her fingertips up Sara’s forearm. “Would you like me to guess, or do you intend to open the messages?”

Sara shifted her arm away. “I didn’t ask for your sass.”

Smirking, Nyssa extended her hand a little further in order to reestablish contact with the pale skin that, though less scarred than it once had been, remained entirely as captivating. She was always compelled to devote at least two senses to her Canary, so touch was a common substitute for sight when she was occupied with a book, although that had a tendency to be counterproductive, depending on Sara’s level of boredom or distraction. 

But this time, Sara slid out of reach and declared, “No touchy. There need to be consequences for your behavior.”

“Sara,” Nyssa sighed, finally setting the book aside and looking at her fiancée, partly put-out and partly amused. “Are you _parenting_ me?”

“Maybe,” Sara shrugged. “I’m too permissive. If I can’t say no to _you_ , this kid’s gonna have me wrapped around their finger without even trying. It’s not fair to make you be the bad guy all the time just ‘cause I’m too much of a pushover.”

Nyssa smiled and shook her head affectionately, pushing up to sit against the headboard. “You’re punishing me for my own benefit?”

“Don’t question my logic.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

In response, Sara arched an eyebrow and held her ground, shifting towards the foot of the bed and crossing her arms.

One thing Nyssa knew well was when to change tactics. She softened, tilting her head slightly and relaxing her posture. “Baby,” she implored soothingly, opening her arms. “I apologize. Please, come here. I need you.”

With only the barest hesitation, Sara nodded and snuggled into her arms. “For the record, I know you’re playing me.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean. But I will gladly participate in any game where the end result is exactly this,” Nyssa replied. They stayed that way for a while, having forgotten whatever they’d been doing before they got sidetracked. Until Nyssa matter-of-factly remarked, “Your pants are vibrating.”

Sara gave her a funny look. “If that’s some sorta come-on, you’re gonna have to explain it to me.”

“No, literally. It’s your phone, Beloved,” the brunette smirked. 

“Right. I knew that.” Sara pushed herself upright and dug out her phone. “Hello?”

Nyssa had assumed it would be Laurel or one of Sara’s parents, but Sara’s eyes widened, and she jumped up and started pacing while she spoke, which threw a wrench in that assumption. Huffing at the loss of her lovely little space heater, Nyssa checked her own phone while she waited to be filled in. There was a group text from Laurel to both her and Sara telling—not asking—them to be at Captain Lance’s house for lunch. She also had a private text from Laurel that promised lunch would be worthwhile. Attached was a picture of a photo album page featuring an exceptionally adorable blonde toddler. She zoomed in on one particular snapshot, wherein tiny Sara held a black kitten; she was ostensibly at some sort of carnival, and there was an arrow-pierced heart painted on her pale, round cheek. The symbolism made Nyssa’s insides tingle warmly. 

Sara was hopping from foot to foot anxiously. “Absolutely, we’ll be there in less than an hour…Great, thanks! Bye.” Tossing her phone onto her pillow, she reached out and caught Nyssa’s wrist. “C’mon, we gotta get ready. Shower, now. Gotta be quick.”

“Oh? What exactly are we rushing to?” the brunette asked, stumbling into the bathroom and waiting while her fiancée reached into the shower to turn on the water. 

“The car is ready.” Sara flashed her pearly grin and slipped in under the water, tugging Nyssa in after her. 

Contrary to what one might expect, Sara showered far more efficiently under Nyssa's supervision. Her first shower in Nanda Parbat had been an hour long. When Nyssa had asked why on earth that was, Sara had only shrugged; it wasn’t as though she’d been very dirty. The healers had cleaned her plenty in the process of treating her injuries. So Nyssa had taken to sitting outside the bathroom door, wondering what the seemingly helpless girl might be doing in there. 

After the third time, Nyssa had told Sara she needed to be more efficient, or “I will have to oversee your showers. Is that what you want, Taer al Asfer?” That night, Nyssa had overheard something she hadn’t entirely understood—something she definitely hadn’t heard the previous nights—and she’d been almost positive she heard her name. It, barely above inaudible, had only lasted five minutes and couldn’t have been a delay, since Sara had emerged from the bathroom after just half an hour. Better, but still far too long. 

Eventually, Nyssa had corralled her own budding emotions enough to actually act in her capacity as Heir. So she’d started sitting _inside_ the bathroom, though with her back to the shower, and talking to Sara to keep her from daydreaming, which was supposedly, and, knowing Sara, believably, what ate up her time. The unusual arrangement had become routine, and Sara’s showers had gotten down to six minutes. 

By the time they’d kissed twice, Nyssa had been quite uncertain about where they stood. Being present while the object of her affections bathed seemed like an invasion, but she wasn’t sure how to offer a change in routine without unintentionally offending her. But then Sara had shyly told her, “You can look, you know. It’s okay.” And then supervising Taer al Asfer had turned into watching Sara, though sometimes she’d had to look away, because Sara cleaned herself thoroughly—something she’d appreciate later—and she hadn’t been ready to see the blonde touch herself, even in a non-sexual way. She hadn’t been ready for a lot of things before Sara opened her mind. And her heart.

In the present, Sara laughed. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “It’s funny, ‘cause there _I_ was thinking: _She’s watching me shower. Something’s bound to happen. I should make sure I’m really clean._ And that’s when you’d look away, so I thought I had it wrong. But then there was that time the heater wasn’t workin’ so well, so the glass wasn’t as fogged, and I could actually see you well enough to tell you were blushing. You’re cute when you blush.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly, but Sara pressed a hand to her cheek and insisted, “I’m serious. You’re beautiful always, but you’re especially cute when you’re embarrassed. Which is why I’m not gonna try to make you comfortable with things the way I am. It’s not who you are. But I’ll always be here to remind you that I think you’re perfect.”

Within twenty minutes, they were showered, dressed, and on Oliver’s porch. It was Felicity who opened the door, and she looked from their happy faces to their firmly interlocked fingers and back again. Her exceptionally awkward greeting led to some questioning, followed by a stern conversation about boundaries once she cracked and told them what she’d done and heard the night before. 

“I am disappointed, Felicity,” Nyssa chided, absently slipping her fingers through one of Sara’s belt loops out of an unconscious need to be close to her other half.

Sara nodded and leaned her head against Nyssa’s shoulder. “Yeah, I can’t believe you _spied_ on us.”

“Sin told me to!” Felicity protested. 

“Lis,” Sara said, affectionately enough that her next words seemed less harsh. “You’re too old for that kindergarten shit. You should’ve known better.” The computer whiz hung her head, so Sara patted her shoulder. “You can make it better by driving us to the dealership.” She turned to walk out to the car and called over her shoulder, “How much did you hear, anyway?” 

“Not much that I understood.” Felicity shrugged. “You guys switched to Arabic, so that was that.”

Sara smirked. “So you shut it down, then? Once you couldn’t understand?”

The other blonde blinked at her, getting into the car and asking, “Yeaahhh…Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Forget I said anything.” 

It didn’t take a genius to add up Sara’s smirk, Nyssa’s blush, and the way they’d been hanging on each other. And Felicity was a genius, so it was painfully obvious. “Sara,” she groaned. “I really didn’t need to know.”

Brent wasn’t working at the Tesla dealership that day, so they were assisted by a middle-aged woman who obviously had more conservative views. As Sara was signing the paperwork, the woman had the audacity to ask if their parents knew they were buying a car together. Nyssa responded curtly that her parents were dead. 

Not about to let anyone ruin her mood, Sara laughed, “I mean, no? But they know I’m marrying her, so I don’t think this will be too traumatic for them.” Then she handed over a bank note and scooped up her keys. “Anyway, have a good day.” 

As they were pulling out of the dealership, Nyssa told Sara, “We’re supposed to be at your father’s house in fifteen minutes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Those messages from Laurel that you never read,” Nyssa replied and patted her leg. 

Sara shrugged. “Oh. Alright.” She looked around to check that the street was empty, then pulled a very tight U-Turn. For about three seconds, she thought she’d gotten away with it, and then she saw lights flash in her rearview mirror. “Shit, where did he come from?”

Nyssa looked at Sara, momentarily puzzled as to why she was pulling over. Then she noticed the cop walking towards their car. “You were not supposed to do that, were you?” 

“Nope,” the blonde replied cheerfully, rolling down her window and fishing out her wallet. “Pass me the registration.” 

“Hello, ma’am,” the young officer said, leaning down to look in the window. “License and registration, please.”

Sara hit him with a wide smile that dripped with faux innocence. “Oh, gosh, don’t call me ma’am, Officer…” She tilted her head to check his name-tag. “Spencer? How are you?”

He seemed to be distracted by her smile and didn’t immediately check her papers. “I’m alright. How are you ladies doin’?”

“We’re just fantastic. Right, Nys?” Sara asked, still grinning at the police officer. 

“Yes, fantastic,” Nyssa echoed with less emotion. She wasn’t sure how to warn Sara about the error she was surely about to make, so she kept her mouth shut.

Sara lightly flirted with the police officer for about fifteen seconds before she went for a familiar move: she pushed her hair behind her ear. But she did it with her left hand, flashing the unmistakable engagement ring. Officer Spencer and Sara realized at the same time, and Sara laughed, “Well, I guess I screwed that up, huh?”

Thankfully, he laughed, too. “Yeah, you’d be surprised how often that happens. You weren’t bad at all. You just seem nice. But some women lay it on real thick. Yeah, loads think they can get away with it because their significant other isn’t there. No hard feelings. I get it.”

Nyssa huffed, “Her significant other _is_ here.”

“Oh,” Officer Spencer said, fixing his collar self-consciously. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine,” Sara assured him. “Everybody does.”

He finally looked down at her license and blinked. “Lance? As in Quentin Lance?”

“Yep! You know my dad?”

“I didn’t know him so much as look up to him back in the day. How is he?”

Sara smiled. “He’s great. I’ll let him know you said hi?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Officer Spencer nodded. “And forget this. I mean, you were being careful, there was no one around. It’s fine. Have a good day, ladies.”

Nyssa nodded and Sara waved enthusiastically. Once they started driving again, Nyssa rolled her eyes. “You get away with everything.”

“Isn’t it great?” Sara replied. 

Nyssa just shook her head. 

When the arrived at Quentin’s, Laurel opened the door and announced dryly, “So you did get my text. Thanks for the response.”

“I am very sorry, Laurel,” Nyssa replied, hugging her. “Sara was quite distracted. Which, of course, meant I was along for the ride.” 

Quentin was staring open-mouthed at the new car in front of his house. “Is that yours?” he asked non-specifically. 

“Uh-huh!” Sara kissed his cheek and bounded into the house. “Hi Mom! Wha…Oh, no. This is sabotage. Laurel!”

“Sorry, Sar, but I’m on Mom’s side. Look how adorable you were! Anyway, come here a sec,” Laurel said, nudging Nyssa inside and tugging Sara out. She pulled her little sister down the front steps and turned away from the door, in case Nyssa’s assassin skills included lip-reading. “So you guys are alright?”

Frowning, Sara nodded. “Yeah, great. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that…”

“Oh,” Sara realized. “Don’t tell me—”

“Felicity called me.”

“Felicity called you. Dang it.” Sara wrinkled her nose. “This is why we don’t snoop.”

Laurel laughed. “Excuse me? Do I have to reintroduce you to our family and friends? Anyway, I only did this because I figured, if Nyssa was still mad at you, she couldn’t stay mad looking at all those cute pictures.”

“Okay, fine. Thanks, I guess. But, future reference, if you spy on me, I can’t be held accountable if you hear things you didn’t want to hear.”

“Sara,” her sister whined. “Don’t be gross.”

“I’m just bein’ honest,” she singsonged, heading back into the house to do damage control on what her parents were showing her fiancée. “Hey, Dad, we just ran into…”

While Sara was distracted with explaining that encounter to their father, Laurel sat down beside Nyssa and whispered, “So, while I was going through some of those old pictures, I found this video. It’s hilarious, but there’s no way Sara will be cool with letting you see it, so I uploaded it to a DropBox. Let me see your phone.”

Nyssa handed over her cellphone, asking, “What is it of?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself, but it’s worth it.” Laurel promised, opening a new note and typing out a series of incoherent characters. “Here’s the password. Check it later, when I’m far away.” She intended to close the note, but she accidentally swiped over to the previous one. “Er, why do you have a dated list of swears?”

Keeping a straight face, Nyssa took her phone back and replied, “Some couples have joint bank accounts. Sara thought it would be prudent for us to have a synchronized notes folder.”

“My little sister, the logician.” Laurel rolled her eyes. “So it’s Sara’s list. Makes more sense but not enough, even for Sara.”

“She's tracking my use of profanity.”

“You don’t swear.”

Nyssa shook her head. “I prefer not to. But I am human. Occasionally, my self-control is tested.”

The elder Lance sister squinted at the former assassin. She blurted, “What do you—Oh. Right. Uh, never mind. Let’s avoid specifics. Sara’s keeping track because she’s into it, then? You swearing?”

“Very much so.”

  “Of course she is. You know what this means,” Laurel prompted. “This is your leverage. I mean, we all know what Sara’s addiction is, but bullshit if you aren’t just as susceptible, so you can’t use sex against her. But you can totally manipulate her with her own ego.”

Nyssa grinned. “I’m sure this is precisely what Sara was worried about regarding our friendship.”

Grinning back, Laurel agreed, “Rightfully. Between us, she has no secrets. Speaking of which, did you know she was a ballerina once?” Laurel picked up one of the more worn albums and opened it to the first page. The inside cover was dated 1992. Opposite that was a page full of snapshots from a New Year’s party, evident from the streamers and hats proclaiming “1992” scattered about the background and adorning partygoers. Mixed in with the candids were a few posed pictures of the young Lance family. 

Continuing through the album, with Dinah joining them along the way, they appreciated and commented on four-year-old Sara’s antics. There were snowman-building attempts, the funniest of which concluded with a noseless snowman and an oblivious, carrot-munching Sara. At the first sight of a tutu, Sara appeared over Nyssa’s shoulder, munching on pizza and groaning, “Ugh, no. How did I forget about this?” 

“I do not know,” Nyssa smirked. “But it is magnificent.”

Resigned to the embarrassment, Sara wedged herself between Nyssa and the arm of the couch, dreading the awkward phases and moments of humiliation that would be revealed within the albums. Miraculously, the mortifying pictures of her with headgear never came, though Laurel flipped through the album that spanned middle school three times in an effort to find them. Behind her sister’s back, Sara made eye contact with her father and subtly mouthed a _thank you_. 

High school wasn’t much safer, though. The lack of braces was a relief, even if Nyssa had found Sara’s metal-mouth amusing and endearing. And the cringey game faces Quentin had expertly captured from her volleyball days were palatable considering it was nothing Nyssa hadn’t already seen on the sparring mat. Then they turned the page on courts and spandex and were met with black sweatpants, a black bikini top, gold track jacket, and pigtails. Sara winced. Her 15 year-old self, decked out, had one fist in the air, a microphone in the other. 

Nyssa gaped. She looked at the woman beside her. Then she looked back at the photo. And at her fiancée again. “Oh my. Sara?” 

The blonde shook her head vigorously before burying her face in Nyssa’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Dinah laughed. “Ah, the band days. Sara was really into that pop punk scene. She always did have a lovely voice.”

“Yeah, Sar,” Quentin piped up. “It’d be nice to hear you sing again.”

Voice muffled by Nyssa’s sweater, Sara scoffed, “Not gonna happen.”

“Not even for Nyssa?” Laurel unsubtly prodded. 

Sara’s only response was, “Mmph.”

“Actually, I was not aware of _this_ ,” Nyssa gestured vaguely to the pictures of Sara and her bandmates. “But I _am_ familiar with Sara’s singing.”

Laurel twisted to look at Sara, whose face was still hidden by her fiancée’s shoulder. “What?”

Sara huffed, “Yeah, shocker. Sometimes I sing for the woman I love. How entirely unprecedented and definitely not straight out of your cheesiest rom-com.”

“I should add,” Nyssa interjected, “That such performances are rarely unprompted.”

“I require some serious persuasion,” Sara agreed. 

Her family reluctantly let it go and moved on through the photo album. When they hit high school graduation, Sara muttered something to Nyssa in Arabic, which got her a soft half-smile from the brunette. While the others continued through the album, she tapped away on her phone. As Dinah straightened a photo on the last page, Laurel asked Sara what she was doing.

“We’ve got some pictures, too. If you wanna see them. I mean, you don’t have to, but I figured if—”

“Of course we’d like to see them, sweetie,” Dinah said. 

“Dad’s got that Bluetooth thing on his TV,” Laurel offered. “If you want to connect your phone and use the big screen.”

Sara nodded. “Yeah, okay. Gimme a sec. Just gotta finish sorting.”

Leaning toward her sister, Laurel suggested, “It’d probably be easier if you just screen-share, instead of making a whole new album.”

“Uh-huh. By all means, Laurel. Go ahead and throw _your_ entire camera roll up on the screen, and let’s see what you’ve got on there.” 

“Point taken.”

Sara’s album was considerably smaller than any of her family’s, but it was, in her opinion, much more interesting, as it had a lot less of her and a lot more things that mattered. Like all of Sin’s birthdays since they’d met, minus the one from the year she spent underground. As the number of candles on the cake ticked up, the sense of familiarity and family in the images increased exponentially. Sara’s favorite was the one where fourteen-year-old Sin was shoving a slice of cake in Nyssa’s face, because it was cute as hell, and that was the month they’d finished the paperwork to adopt her. 

Then there were snippets of daily life with the League of Assassins, told through random pictures of Nyssa, including her reading, meditating, doing yoga, inspecting and maintaining her bow, and even sleeping. The better pictures of the two of them together in Nanda Parbat—the ones of them sparring or of Nyssa teaching Sara how to use her bow—were much rarer. Opportunities to capture moments like those were few and far between in a place that discouraged technology.

But a significant portion of the photos followed a specific format: Sara, Nyssa, a kiss, and a landmark. That was a picture Sara had made a point to take for nearly every mission they went on together. Sometimes it was a kiss on the cheek, sometimes it was on the mouth. Sometimes it was a beautiful landscape or a random street instead of a landmark. In any given image, the two subjects ranged from bright-eyed to world-weary. There were those where the toll of the mission was clearly visible in tattered clothing or fresh wounds, and there were those that could be mistaken for a vacation. There was even one with Sin between them, making a goofy face. Regardless, it was something of a tradition, and, in starting a tradition, Sara had made a commitment, whether or not she’d consciously realized it at first. Tradition meant an expectation of continuity, and an expectation of continuity meant Sara had never thought she’d need to leave Nyssa. And that was important. 

Sara started to feel a little self conscious as they went through the images. Sure, she had no trouble saying _either_ L word, but it was different to expose something so close to her heart. She could shout from the rooftops that she loved Nyssa, but that wouldn’t change the fact that the feeling itself was theirs and theirs alone. And the photos were a pretty raw expression of that feeling. There was a vulnerability in sharing those moments that she hadn’t expected. Everyone sees love differently. She knew Laurel first saw it in the way Nyssa mourned her. And her Dad saw it in the way they fought—together and for each other. Her Mom saw…well, her Mom had seen too much. But those were just bits and pieces. For Sara, the pictures were the most complete representation of them and their relationship. 

There was the League, unseen but ever-present as the force guiding their actions. And there were reminders of what they’d fought for; particularly in the shot where their faces were partially blocked by the newspaper Sara held up. Under her fingers was a headline announcing the death of a major human trafficker and arms dealer. She’d been proud of that one. The League of Assassins, problematic as it had been, had had its redeeming moments.

Several snaps highlighted Sara’s ability to bring out the mirth in the usually serious Nyssa. For example, the one from Vatican City of them locked in what seemed like a heated kiss, except they were giving each other bunny ears. It was equally reflective of Nyssa’s influence on her. While Sara had never been one to toe the line, she’d been much more troublesome than silly once she hit the teen years. Despite the toll the League had taken on Sara’s view of her own morality, Nyssa had brought back the Canary’s goofiness. After the earthquake, she’d struggled more than ever with the darkness inside her, and Oliver’s judgmental nature and air of superiority made it almost impossible to pretend she didn’t desperately need Nyssa’s unwavering faith in her. The brunette may have accepted the darkness, but she also revived the light. 

In contrast, there were other photos that showed Sara’s serious side, which was mostly the result some sort of injury on Nyssa’s part. The reverse was only slightly more common, since Sara was admittedly more rash than Nyssa, though she no longer had any of those scars, thanks to the Pit. 

Of course there were the regular things, like the way they looked at each other with the kind of reverence high school Sara would’ve gagged at. Or their body language, which was alway oriented towards their other half. The kiss was a consistent point of contact, but, in most of the pictures, there was something more: hand on cheek, fingers in hair, arm around neck, etc. Lust was a less present element, since Sara hadn’t included the racier photos. Except the one she’d overlooked, which was in a cobblestone alley in Venice and had been taken from above (via selfie stick, in an attempt to blend in with tourists). It looked normal until one noticed that Sara’s right forearm was hidden between their bodies. Sara realized it almost immediately and quickly skipped to the next picture at the same moment that Nyssa cleared her throat. 

Once the slideshow was finished, they said their goodbyes to Dinah, who had to return to Central City. Quentin decided to drive her, which was probably an I-want-to-talk-about-the-kids kind of move. Before leaving, he told the girls they were welcome to hang out but reminded them to lock up if they left before he got back.

Meanwhile, Laurel had texted Thea and Sin, “I have an idea for the wedding. We’ll need Felicity’s help.”

She kept the couple around, chatting about random things. Sara ended up turning upside down on the couch, so her legs were over the back and her back was on the seat cushion.

Laurel laughed. “You’re such a goon. Like, I know you say you did bad stuff, but I can’t imagine you being _brutal_.”

“Laurel, I convinced Nyssa that I didn’t love her,” Sara replied solemnly, intertwining her fingers with her fiancée’s. “I had her heart in my hands and I crushed it. And I totally blindsided her, too. There was no warning. That’s as brutal as it gets.”

Laurel held back another laugh. 

“Sorry, I know that was, like, traumatic for you guys, but it sounds like such a joke. Like, Dad _still_ doesn’t really trust Oliver, who he’s known since we were kids. But he’s totally cool with you,” she gestured at Nyssa, “And you’ve deliberately targeted our whole family. More than once. No hard feelings, of course, but I’m just saying, the force of your devotion to each other is that strong. I can’t imagine anyone buying that either one of you didn’t love the other.” She looked down at her phone and changed the topic, “Hey, Oliver just texted. Want to go over some tactical stuff? He wants your input, Nyssa.”

“And he couldn’t have texted _us_ that?” Sara asked, eyebrow raised.

Her sister shrugged. “I was already texting him, and he knew I was with you guys.” 

Nyssa nodded and plucked the keys from Sara’s pocket. She was looking forward to being in her comfort zone. 

When they got to Oliver’s, Sin and Thea were lounging on the couch in the living room, while Felicity tapped away on her tablet from her perch at the kitchen island.

“Hey, guys!” Sin called, walking over and slinging her arm around Sara. “How’s it goin’?”

Nyssa smiled at her. “We are going to help Oliver with strategic planning.”

“Oh, boring stuff. Alrighty, have fun with that,” the teen replied, shooing them downstairs along with Laurel. 

For all her stealth and awareness training, Sara hadn’t expected her kid to steal her phone, so Sin’s maneuver was successful. She tossed the cellphone to Felicity, who transferred the contents to a duplicate in a matter of seconds and then handed the phone back to Sin, who trotted down the stairs, calling, “Sar, you dropped your phone.”

When Sin returned to the living room, where Felicity had joined Thea, the younger Queen asked, “Okay, so who’s gonna be the one to go through it?”

“For sure not me,” Sin declared. Felicity’s cheeks turned pink.

“So me, then,” Thea confirmed, picking up the duplicate phone and opening the Photos app. 

As she went through it, Sin reminded her of the plan. “So you’re looking for cute pics we can use in a slideshow at their wedding. _Not_ other stuff. Seriously.”

“This will be such a cute surprise,” Felicity gushed. 

“Okay, I gotta know,” Thea mumbled.

Sin frowned, “What the heck are you talking about?”

Still swiping away, Thea explained, “You were right not to want to go through this, but I figured any scandalous pics would’ve been taken by Sara. Right? Can you picture Nyssa—”

“I really don’t want to,” Sin huffed.

Felicity’s face went from pink to scarlet. Apparently, she had a weaker mental filter. Or a more vivid imagination.

“Anyway,” Thea continued, scrolling up through their text messages, “I have to know how Sara convinced Nyssa to take that. Wow, okay, Nyssa is really descriptive. I should take notes.” 

She finally got to the conversation that led to Nyssa sending a mirror selfie—which was super weird by itself, even before considering the fact that the former assassin was naked in it—and she laughed, “Why am I not surprised that Sara’s sexting tactic is to start with a meme?” 

“Hey,” Laurel chirped, retying her ponytail as she walked into the living room. “How’s it going?”

“Laurel, guess who sent this text:” Thea challenged, reading aloud, “Baby, please. I’m so wet.”

The Black Canary grimaced. “I don’t want to play this game.”

“C’mon! Just guess.”

Laurel sighed, “Well, it’s a girl, and it’s obviously not one of us. And Nyssa doesn’t call Sara “baby”, so it was my little sister, wasn’t it? You know this isn’t fun for me, right?”

Thea grinned. “So Nyssa calls Sara “baby”. Just not in polite conversation.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, sitting down beside Thea. “That doesn’t seem like something she’d say. Now I’m kind of intrigued.”

“Me too,” Felicity decided, sitting on Thea’s other side. “Wow, Nyssa’s pretty explicit for someone who doesn’t swear.”

Nodding in agreement, Thea remarked, “I think using slang prevents us from being comfortable with the proper words, which is why she’s so much better at using them.”

“Better would definitely be the word for it,” Laurel said. 

“Okay, they sext better—I mean, this is a lot more aesthetically palatable than dick picks and “I wanna fuck you in the ass.”—

“Ew, Felicity,” Thea cried.

Felicity barreled on, “Their sex life in reality is definitely better, they can do girly things together…Is it too late to be a lesbian?”

“Can you guys get back to the task at hand?” Sin complained, “I don’t wanna hear this, and they’re gonna come back up here eventually, so ya got a small window.”

Thea switched back to the photos, and cooed over a particularly sweet one. “Aw, they’re so young! They must be my age here. This is gonna be perfect for the wedding.”

“I know, right?” Laurel agreed. “As much shit as we give them, they really do deserve something special.” 

Sin announced, “I agree and everything, but I’m gonna smash that phone when we’re done with it. Not lettin’ any of you take it. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry it's been a while; I was super busy with work. I'm trying, I promise!
> 
> Also, jeez, the girls JUST got a lecture on snooping. They don't learn, do they? But they've been trying to plan a wedding behind the scenes, so I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.
> 
> PS - Part of the reason it took so long for me to finish this chapter was that I have been getting into some of the past or future stories that I've created in my mind while writing this. I kinda want to start posting other stuff in this universe but not in the main storyline. How do people feel about that? And, if you want it, what sort of stories would you be interested in? I'm a softie, so I can do hella fluffy, but I also have a dirty, dirty mind (shocker), so I can go for E if that's something people want, or I can try to focus on humorous, though I don't think I'm particularly funny. Let me know! This is a you-don't-ask-you-don't-get situation, people.


	11. Conversations in Dressing Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People seem to be in a talking mood. Which is good, because talking, reprehensible though it may be, is healthy. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really just the first thing that came out when I tried to write. It's kinda eh, but my life's about to get busy, so I figured I should post _something_.

In less than a month, Sara and Nyssa’s lives had changed drastically. By the time they’d been in Star City for two weeks, they had a car, a house, a wedding planner (or three), and a child on the way. Nyssa was doing just fine; when she’d gotten down on one knee, she’d expected a certain amount of change would follow, and she could handle a little more. But Sara…well, Sara seemed more than a little off, to put it nicely. She was jumpy and distracted and even a bit distant, and Nyssa knew something was going on, but she wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy or her fiancée was hiding something from her. The only pseudo clue was the text message she’d noticed Sara sending to Barry, which read, _You sing, right?_ And that wasn’t particularly concerning or revealing. She didn’t dare bring up Sara’s behavior to anyone, least of all the woman herself, knowing she’d look either unsympathetic or paranoid. So, when Sara said she wanted to go out with some friends from high school, Nyssa was more than happy to give her the space, hoping it might offer her some needed balance. 

Of course, that gave Laurel and Felicity the perfect opportunity to drag Nyssa dress shopping. Wedding dress shopping. Sara already picked out her dress during a trip with Sin, her sister, and Thea. According to Sin, the whole thing was dreadfully boring, and she admitted that Nyssa would probably hate it. But Sara wanted her big white wedding, and Nyssa wanted whatever Sara wanted, so she’d go dress shopping, even if the prospect made her ill. 

The first dress she tried was a terribly poofy thing that made her look like a cupcake. Laurel and Felicity both burst out laughing the moment they saw it, prompting Nyssa to turn on her heel, return to the dressing room, and pull it off, huffing, “Why did you even give me such a monstrosity in the first place?” 

“That would be my bad,” called a voice that Nyssa immediately recognized.

“Talia?”

“I hope this is okay. Sara invited me.”

Nyssa quickly tugged on the next dress and went to step out, then reconsidered, feeling that the attire was not appropriate for what she waned to say. “It is more than okay. I am sorry for the way I treated you. You are my sister, and you at least deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

Talia shifted, uncertain of how to interact with the two other women, both of whom were staring at her like she must’ve been an alien. Then again, she knew her fair share of those, and maybe that wasn’t an accurate comparison. Kryptonians seemed to do a better job of fitting in than she was at the moment. She remarked, “I appreciate that, but it’s hard to believe, given that you won’t even look at me.”

Nyssa emerged and gestured to the dress she was wearing. “Perhaps this is a suitable explanation?”

Her sister grinned and giggled, “This is amazing. Sara has to see this!” She took out her phone and snapped a picture.

“Wait!” Felicity yelped. “The bride isn’t supposed to see the other bride’s dress until the wedding.” She squinted. “That made sense, right?”

Laurel interjected, “Felicity, this is obviously _not_ going to be the dress.”

She was right. It was a nice enough dress, but it wasn’t a good choice for Nyssa. Besides, it was clearly cut for someone smaller in the chest, and the reasonably endowed brunette was, for lack of a better term, busting out of the bodice. 

Nyssa looked down, and her eyes widened. “Certainly not this one.”

At that, Laurel laughed and offered, “Well, that’s obvious to us, but, honestly, I think we can guess what Sara would think.”

“Confirmed,” Talia declared, holding up her cellphone and, on it, a text from Sara that said, _Yes. That one. Make it happen_.

Nyssa blushed, and her sister threw an arm around her shoulder, declaring, “This makes me suspect that we have some _other_ shopping to do, sister dearest.”

“Oh, I’m in,” Laurel volunteered. 

Felicity wiggled her eyebrows. “Are we talking…sexytime underwear?”

Laurel burst out laughing. “Or what normal people call lingerie.”

Still blushing, Nyssa shook her head. “I shouldn’t even try to argue, should I?”

“Absolutely not. Now go on, there are a lot of dresses waiting for you in there,” Talia insisted, nudging her back to the dressing room.

While Nyssa was wiggling out of that dress and into a new one, Laurel took the opportunity to introduce herself to Talia and ask a question that was now burning inside her. “So, from Sara’s time traveling stories, you should be a lot older than us. Do you use some kind of amazing moisturizer, or what?”

“Yes, it’s called Lazarus,” Talia joked. “Actually, when I was a child, my father thought it prudent to use water from the pit to keep me young while I trained, so that I could be as lethal as possible when I finally was old enough to fight. Nyssa is far more naturally skilled than I, which is why she looks her age. She is lucky enough not to have been subjected to the pit. Although, the trauma of Sara’s ordeal was likely more than enough to balance that which did not need balancing.”

“You do realize,” Nyssa said, sticking her head out first, then following with the rest of her body, “that I can hear you, do you not?”

This dress was far better that the previous two. It actually fit, and was significantly less puffy than the first. The bodice was beaded, which wasn’t something Nyssa would usually go for—assuming she’d go for anything pants-less in the first place—but it worked for her. The women were all nodding in approval. “It looks good,” Laurel observed. “Only problem is that it clashes with Sara’s dress.” 

“Of course it does,” Nyssa sighed, returning to the dressing room.

While she was in there, the other two crowded around Laurel so she could show them a picture of Sara’s dress. It had a sweetheart neckline with a lace bodice and chapel train, and it was pure white. Felicity huffed, “Maybe we should’ve looked at this _before_ we picked things out.”

“No,” Laurel argued, keeping her voice down, “It’s better to look for something Nyssa will be comfortable in. Sara’s much more flexible. If it comes down to something that doesn’t match today, then Sara said she’d be fine with looking for something else. She insisted that we make sure Nyssa’s not just going with the flow for her benefit. This day will be for both of them, and she wants Nyssa to feel that way. I’m inclined to agree.”

Talia nodded and whispered, “Yes, my sister, in spite of her tough exterior, has a tendency to defer to others instead of pursuing her own happiness. Choosing to be with Sara, with or without our father’s approval, was her first major deviation from that, and it’s an important aspect of their relationship. They strengthen each other.”

Both Laurel and Felicity stared at Talia, startled. The assassin shrugged. “What? She is my little sister. I did pay _some_ attention.” Then she frowned in thought. “Laurel, can I borrow your phone, I think I have an idea, but I need that picture.” The elder Lance handed over her cellphone, and Talia disappeared into the store.

Meanwhile, Nyssa looked over her options critically. She huffed and declared, “I refuse to even try this,” holding the dress in question, which was ludicrously covered in feathers, out over the top of the door for one of her companions to take. “Or this,” she said, handing over a bedazzled one. 

“Try this,” Talia offered, reappearing and passing a dress over the door. 

Nyssa remarked skeptically, “It is quite lacy, Talia.”

“Just try it, Nyssa.”

A minute later, Nyssa stepped out, and she looked stunning. The dress had a plunging neckline, long illusion sleeves, and an elegant, unadorned trumpet skirt. Miraculously, the lace of the bodice and sleeves, as well as the color, seemed to perfectly match Sara’s dress. 

“Wow,” Laurel breathed. “You look incredible, Nyssa.”

Felicity gaped. “We should all bow down to Talia’s expertise. We are _not_ worthy.”

 

Meanwhile, out in the suburbs, Sara walked slowly towards her house, pocketing her car keys and assessing the figure loitering on her porch. “Hi, Daddy,” she called out. “How’s it going? How’s the lady?”

“Good,” Quentin replied with a shrug, following his daughter inside. 

Sara laughed, “Yeah, of course, Dad. Come inside. Make yourself at home. You have a tendency to do that; did you know?”

Her father shrugged again, but Sara didn’t see. She was too intent on popping a memory card into her computer, as though its contents might vanish if she waited too long. When she turned around, satisfied by the slow march of the blue progress bar documenting the data transfer, she saw her father studying a worn journal on the coffee table. He reach out as if intending to open it, so she cleared her throat.

“Dad, how many times do I have to tell you? If you go through my stuff, you’re _going_ to see things you don’t like. That’s a promise.”

It was true, though she said so more for her own benefit than his. Early on, Nyssa had gotten her into the habit of expressing herself with a pen in addition to her bō, and she’d actually continued doing so in the years since without any nudging. Her current journal, stupidly left out in the open, was mostly filled with harmless scribbles and musings. There were, however, sporadic sketches of Nyssa, in varying states of dress and nearly always asleep, which Sara wasn’t keen on sharing with her father. 

Those mostly came from nights when insomnia hit, when she’d sit up, grab her pen, squint through the darkness, and draw the woman at her side. She wasn’t sure how aware Nyssa was of her artistic attempts, but the brunette knew something, at least, because, on mornings after insomniac nights, Nyssa always remarked on the coppery taste of Sara’s kiss, explained, though not actually explained _to_ Nyssa, by the fact that Sara had a tendency to bite her tongue in concentration as she drew. No pain, no gain, though. The Canary was definitively most proud of those sloppy sketches. Love was a hell of a thing, wasn’t it?

“Sar,” Quentin said warily, withdrawing his outstretched hand. “First, I’m ignoring that comment. Second, are you hiding something from Nyssa?”

Sara blinked, surprised, and frowned, trying to think of the right way to phrase what she wanted to say. She landed on, “Yeah, but not in a bad way. Are you, like, actually looking out for my fiancée?”

“Well, y’know, she ain’t so bad, and I think we know you’ve got self-destructive tendencies when it comes to relationships, baby girl.”

The blonde winced, and not because of the jab about her past relationship blunders. She rubbed the back of her neck and said, “Daddy, you know I love you, but that’s not exactly my favorite pet name.”

“What do you mean?”

She shifted uneasily. It wasn’t until the Gambit went down that Quentin started referring to his younger daughter as his “baby girl” in earnest. The endearments Sara was used to from her father had been much lighter. She knew the shift was because of how much her disappearance had affected him, but it didn’t make it easy for her to adjust to. Up until her return to Star, she’d only known—only allowed—one person to call her “baby” in any manner, and that person was Nyssa. So she quietly informed her father that she was more used to hearing it from Nyssa.

To her dismay, Quentin blanched. He groaned, “Really, Sar? There’s a line…”

“No, not like that!” Sara squeaked. “It’s an intimate thing, but not necessarily sexual, y’know? Like, I know everyone thinks the way she is around me in public is some kind of _huge_ exception to how formal she is with everyone else, but that’s not really accurate. Beloved is actually kinda formal. I mean, in the League, anyway. It was sorta my title, y’know? I was “The Beloved.””

“Yeah, I vaguely remember one of those men who tried to kill us saying that.”

Sara frowned at the reminder, but continued steadfastly. “Right. So Nys is always pretty formal, even with me. To be honest, you guys might never see full on casual Nyssa. That’s a part of her she keeps really guarded. It’s kinda rough but also kinda special, y’know? To have that part of her to myself?”

Her dad’s eyebrows scrunched together. He was clearly processing. “So, all this time, I thought her calling you “Beloved” was a, uh, term of endearment, or, like, a window under her armor. But it’s actually…”

“Like stating a fact, yeah.”

“Sara, this woman…this woman, who you’ve been with for years, who is otherwise impossibly stoic, states her love for and commitment to you as easily as fact and considers doing so _formal_?” He laughed in disbelief, “I mean, it’s always been clear she loves you, but I’m getting the sense it’s a hell of a lot deeper than I’d thought.”

“Daddy, she once carried me up a cliff known for being deadly to the best climbers. Nyssa al Ghul is, without a doubt, the most amazing person I know, and I can’t believe you think I would even dream of doing something sketchy and risk hurting her…” Sara flinched and added, “Again.”

“Jesus, Sara, why the hell didn’t _you_ propose years ago?”

“Oh, I tried. A while back. But that’s a long story, and I’m definitely not telling it to you before I tell her.”

Quentin studied his daughter, looking more and more the authoritative figure she remembered from her adolescence. When he spoke, he did so carefully and sincerely. 

“Listen, sweetheart, I love you, and I’m relieved every day to see more of the daughter I know emerge from the woman plagued by cynicism and darkness that I met when you first came home. So don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I wonder if you realize how damn lucky you are to have the sort of love you share with Nyssa. People would do unspeakable things for love like that.” 

Sara sank into an armchair and hugged her knees to her chest, looking away. After a second, she swallowed and whispered, “Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Because of who her father was, I couldn’t be with Nyssa without swearing my allegiance to the League of Assassins. So I _did_ do horrible, horrible things. I literally killed for love. And I know better than anyone what our love has cost.

“But I’ll be damned if I waste Nyssa’s shot at happiness—God, I’d give her the world, if I could—and, even though she deserves better, she wants me, for some insane reason.” Sara shook her head, disbelieving. “So I’ve learned to live with the guilt of what I’ve done. I know I’ll never escape it, but I can pack it up so it’s easier to carry. I mean, everyone’s got baggage, right? At least ours goes together. 

“And, even though I can’t erase what I’ve done, I _can_ be better from now on. Which means doing the right thing as often and as wholly as possible. Maybe someday I’ll have done enough good to stop the bad from keeping me up at night. Maybe someday I’ll feel like I’m worthy of what Nyssa sees in me. Until then, I’ll count myself one of the luckiest people on the planet that the people I care about will take me as I am.”

She looked up at her father and concluded with the utmost sincerity, “So that’s why I goof off the way I do. Masks aren’t just for vigilantism, Daddy. Sometimes we wear them for the sake of the people we love.”

“Oh, honey,” Quentin sighed, holding his arm out and waiting for Sara to sit beside him so he could wrap it around her shoulders. “I know you love her. I wasn’t questioning that. It’s just that you’ve seemed…distant, lately. And Nyssa seems confused. I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here for you.”

And then Sara kind of wanted to bang her head against the wall. Yes, she was keeping a huge secret, but it wasn’t from her fiancée. It was from everyone else. Even if she wanted to tell her dad she was pregnant, they’d decided to play it safe and wait until they were through the first trimester. It was just funny that he thought there could be a secret that she’d be more willing to tell him than Nyssa. He might be pretty openminded in a lot of ways, but she well knew his opinion of pregnancy out of wedlock. It was the reason she’d never been willing to even go near a guy if he refused a condom. 

Instead of coming up with some complicated explanation, Sara just went with honesty. She admitted, “Actually, I’ve been working on something for Nys’s birthday. It’s pretty big, so it’s taken up a lot of my attention. Don’t say anything to her, though.”

“What would I say?” Quentin laughed. “You haven’t even told me anything.”

“I don’t want her to know I’m planning anything.”

Her father squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “As much as you struggle with your head, you’ve got a good heart there, sweetheart.”

Sara grinned and rapped her knuckles over her heart. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“Uh, did you just quote, um…”

“Shakespeare. Yeah, I guess my favorite nerd has had an influence on me, huh?”

 

Back at the mall, Nyssa was blushing furiously at the lewd comments her sister, Laurel, and Felicity where shooting at her from the other side of the door in the dressing room of the lingerie section. Clenching her jaw, she stuck her head out and said, as evenly as possible, “Laurel, could I get your opinion on something?”

The elder Lance sister’s eyebrows shot up, but she shrugged and ducked into the dressing room and laughed. “Oh, okay. For a second, I was worried you might’ve hit your head in here and forgotten what you’re like.”

Nyssa frowned and shifted her weight, firmly holding a lavender, silk robe closed with her arms crossed over her chest. She’d grabbed it because she hadn’t had a robe since the one Sara stole several years ago, and she put it on over the…thing she’d been trying on because she’d suddenly had an urge to ask Laurel, “Do you think I’m trying too hard? Am I, perhaps, making a fool of myself? As much as Sara jokes, this is…we were quite satisfied with the way we were in Nanda Parbat, without…lace…or,” she cleared her throat uncomfortably and gestured to the racy lingerie hanging behind her. “Or _this_. Is this too much?”

Laurel perched delicately on the bench and patted the remaining space for Nyssa to join her. She responded earnestly, “Hey, I know we’ve been giving you shit, but forget that for a second. This—all of it—is about you and what you want. How do _you_ feel?”

“I’m not sure,” Nyssa admitted.

“When you look in that mirror,” Laurel prompted, glancing at the dressing room mirror, “Do you feel good about yourself? Do you feel strong? This isn’t supposed to make you feel uneasy, Nyssa, and, if it does, it’s okay to stop. To tell us _no_. We’ll get it, I promise. And don’t do it for Sara. She’d still be drooling if you were wearing ugly Christmas sweaters three sizes too big.” 

“I suppose it is empowering, in a way.”

Smiling, Laurel pulled Nyssa up into a hug and replied, “Good. And this one’s definitely a keeper.” She tugged gently on one of the straps of the wine-colored, lace and mesh bustier, which was visible since Nyssa had uncrossed her arms and let the robe slip open. 

The former assassin let out an undignified squeak and pulled the robe closed. 

“Please, Nys,” Laurel chuckled, falling easily into the nickname that only Sara used with any consistency. “You were covered. It’s lingerie, not your birthday suit. Besides, it’s not like you’ve got anything I haven’t. Anatomically, anyway. You’re like a million times more deadly, but…” She trailed off. “Did you have a hard time with Sara?”

“Pardon?”

“When you guys first…” Laurel waved a hand vaguely. “Y’know. Cause, I mean, physicality comes so easily to you guys. I can’t really imagine you being awkward with her, but there must’ve been a time where you weren’t as comfortable with her, right?” She took a breath, then added, in a rush, “You don’t have to answer. Sorry. Sorry.”

“No, it is alright,” Nyssa said slowly. “The simple answer is yes. But Sara did not give me much opportunity to dwell on my awkwardness in the moment.”

“Yeah, that’s not much of a shock. She’s a real charmer, my little sister. Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”

Outside, Talia quirked an eyebrow at Laurel, who emerged donning a half smile.

“She wanted advice. Believe me, you don’t want to see your sister like that. I’m really trying hard to keep images of Sara out of my head.”

“Oh, I do believe I’ve seen much worse of both our sisters,” Talia smirked.

“Ew.”

“I agree.”

Felicity had gone to the bathroom, and, taking advantage of her absence, Talia leaned close to Laurel on the bench to whisper conspiratorially, “So, are you excited?”

Laurel frowned. “For?”

“To be an aunt! Do you think it will be a boy or girl?” Talia beamed, but it faltered the slightest bit as she took in Laurel’s continued confusion. “You do know…you know Sara’s pregnant, right?”

“WHAT?!”

Talia didn’t flinch. She merely tilted her head in curiosity and remarked, “Hm, I would’ve thought she’d have told you by now.”

Laurel growled, “If I weren’t suddenly worried about my future niece or nephew, I’d kill her.”

“Yes, well, since we are on the subject, we absolutely must agree to spoil him or her rotten. I do believe that is an aunt’s prerogative, is it not?”

“Oh, no doubt. Ice cream and candy for dinner. It’ll drive Sara and Nyssa crazy.”

“A fortunate bonus,” Talia chuckled.

Then Felicity returned and they quickly ended the conversation, going back to prodding at Nyssa. Mostly, they accused her of taking so long because she was checking herself out and reminded her that was Sara’s job. It earned the desired indignant reaction without making their friend too uncomfortable. When Nyssa finally emerged, they swarmed her to see what she’d decided on, and she flushed pink even though they’d been the ones to help her pick everything out. 

As they were waiting at the counter to pay for everything, a semi-familiar voice rang out.

“Laurel Lance!”

Under her breath, Laurel hissed to Nyssa, “Louise.” Then, more brightly, as she turned around, “Louise. Hello.”

“Hi, dear. How’s your darling sister?” Louise Lincoln strutted up to the group, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Sara is _fine_ ,” Nyssa interjected. 

The expressions on each woman’s face varied drastically. Louise continued to grin. Laurel appeared mildly annoyed. Felicity’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and curiosity. Talia was disinterested and unimpressed. 

Nyssa wore an expression of barely contained loathing not unlike the way she used to look at Oliver Queen. 

And it only fueled Louise. “Ah, yes. Nyssa, isn’t it? How are you managing wrangling such a delightfully free girl as Sara Lance? It must not be easy.” 

Nyssa’s spine straightened, and fury rolled off her in almost tangible waves. Abruptly, Talia was no longer disinterested. 

Standing at Nyssa’s shoulder, Felicity whispered, “Ooh, scary Nyssa. Go for it, girl.”

The brunette looked to Laurel, silently asking for permission or encouragement or something to validate how she was feeling. Laurel nodded almost imperceptibly, and Nyssa straightened even more, her shoulders back and chin held high. It was the posture she always used as Heir. But, now, she adjusted her old manner and speech slightly. She took an unflinching step toward Louise.

“I am Nyssa al Ghul, Demon’s Head and leader of the League of Assassins. Should you continue to make such provocative remarks about my fiancée, I will not hesitate to demonstrate what that means. Sara and I have been together for eight years. Your pettiness will not even ripple our relationship, so stop overestimating your influence and learn to respect such a commitment. Now _get out of my sight_. Before I decide to painfully revoke your ability to make your saccharine overtures toward _my_ woman.”

And Louise fled. Pathetically.

Felicity actually clapped. 

Clapping her sister on the back, Talia remarked, “And that is why you were the Heir. Far more intimidating than I could dream of being, Nyssa. I daresay Father himself would’ve been quite proud of that.”

Nyssa smirked, smug and confident in her victory.

 

When they got back to the house, Nyssa invited them in, handing the shopping bags to Laurel and telling her which closet to put them in, because Sara’s instinct would be to peek if she knew about them.

“Beloved, I’m home,” she called out expectantly.

There was the sound of a laptop snapping closed and then Sara bounded into the foyer. She halted a foot away from her lover, grinned widely at Nyssa, and demanded, “Give me some sugar,” complete with a grabby hands gesture. 

Still riding the high of her interaction with Louise, Nyssa smirked back, leaned in, looked Sara up and down, and replied smoothly, “How do you want it?”

The blonde’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck, I’m having a stroke.”

Nyssa just smirked more.

“What…” Sara gaped dumbly. “What the heck did you guys do to her?” she asked the other women right as Laurel returned. 

“Nothing special,” her sister assured her. 

“Yeah, okay,” Sara laughed. “Well, thanks for stopping by. Nice to see you. You guys can come back when it wears off,” she joked, pretending to shoo them out the door.

Laurel rolled her eyes, but she was happy. They were all ludicrously happy, given everything, weren’t they? She half listened to the conversation as they all settled in the living room with glasses of wine, thinking about all the good in their lives. Happy to have her sister around. Then she remembered what Talia had told her…

“SARA!”


	12. President Sara Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Nyssa's birthday, and Sara has big plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? It's a long one, so hopefully that makes up for my inconsistency. So, without further ado:

It might be said that Sara was racing around the house like a decidedly more graceful Tasmanian Devil, a la Looney Tunes. This particular observation came not from Nyssa but from Sin, who was hunched over a bowl of cornflakes, sitting at the island and watching the blonde warily, though the former assassin guessed she’d probably agree with the teenager if only she knew what on earth a Tasmanian Devil actually was. Her fiancée had apparently been up for hours—Sara’s side of the bed was long cold—by the time Nyssa had woken. And when she _had_ woken, she’d opened her eyes to an enormous grin, a tray loaded with breakfast and the insistence that she stay quiet, because Sara had planned to wish her a _very_ happy birthday and Sin had been asleep in her own room down the hall. Sara was highly enthusiastic about birthdays, so Nyssa wasn’t complaining about the chaos, even though all she really wanted on her “special day” was to spend time with her family. 

But Sin, on the other hand, was definitely complaining. Loudly. 

“Sar, you’re makin’ my head hurt. Just sit down for, like, ten seconds. The world is totally not gonna fall apart if you chill out. Promise.”

The blonde glared menacingly, and, for the first time in a while, the other two people in the room were reminded that she was capable of being intimidating. She huffed, “I’m trying to get everything ready. Unless you want to be thrown out of this house for the day or forced to help me, you will kindly shut it, kid.”

“Okay, okay,” Sin grumbled, holding her hands up in surrender. 

Only somewhat hesitantly, Nyssa made her own attempt, wondering, “Beloved, what exactly are you trying to get ready for?”

“Your party,” came the nonchalant reply from the living room.

Nyssa balked. “I beg your pardon?”

Sara poked her head back in the kitchen and repeated, “Your party. Y’know, for your birthday?”

“I most certainly do not know.”

“I asked you. You were fine with it.” 

Crossing her arms, Nyssa argued, “I don’t recall being asked.”

Though Sara was back in the other room, Nyssa didn’t need to see her face to sense the shit-eating grin she wore as she innocently replied, “Sure you do. It was a week ago. Remember? Last Saturday night, after dinner with Felicity and Oliver?”

At that, Nyssa glowered at the empty doorway. She had no trouble remembering that night in broader terms, but remembering precisely what Sara had said while three fingers in, or what she herself had agreed to when those fingers twisted just so…well, that was another matter entirely. 

The brunette remarked, “You play dirty, Lance.”

“And you like it,” the blonde shot back.

“Ugh, come on,” Sin cried. “Can’t you guys take it easy?”

There was a fairly loud thump from the living room and then, “Ow. Shit. Fuck… _ow_.”

Nyssa was immediately at Sara’s side, knowing she was fine but still helpless to the pull. She found the woman standing beside their heavy, elegant coffee table, clutching her shin and grimacing, so she smiled softly at her beloved, gently teasing, “Baby, sometimes I wonder if you actively _try_ to shed your training. No member of the League should even be capable of such clumsiness.”

“And, yet, here we are,” Sara whined, wincing.

Kissing her temple, Nyssa pulled Sara down onto the couch and brought the blonde’s legs into her lap, smoothing her hands up the battered one to take the place of Sara’s and tenderly stroke the sore spot. Sure, they didn’t put any stock in physical pain—this was probably more about surprise than hurt—but that didn’t dissuade Nyssa’s urge to comfort her love.

Hesitantly, she asked, for clarification’s sake, “You’re throwing me a party?”

Sara blushed at the tenderness of the moment and explained, “Yeah, I know you’ve never _really_ had a normal birthday party, and you’ve got a lot of friends now who want to celebrate, so it seemed like a nice idea.” 

Nyssa laughed, “I don’t suppose that night at the bar in Tel Aviv counts as a normal birthday experience?”

“Oh, God, no. Although, I think, after those black licorice shots, that was the drunkest I’ve ever seen you. We should do that again sometime, without all the broken glass or unplanned midnight swims.” Sara cocked her head to the side and amended, “Well, maybe swimming would be fine, but I’d prefer leisure to escape method.”

“Perhaps,” allowed Nyssa noncommittally. 

“Okay, you’re totally distracting me,” Sara griped, swatting Nyssa’s hands away and jumping off the couch.

 

* * *

 

Much to the surprise of many guests—but not Nyssa; she had complete faith—Sara did a beautiful job as a hostess. Hors d’oeuvres, including stuffed mushrooms and bruschetta, were elegantly plated and ready when company started to arrive at 3pm. Said guests were Oliver, William, Thea, Roy, Felicity, Dig, Lyla, Laurel, Quentin, Donna, Talia, Clark, Lois, Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin. There was plenty of easy conversation, and no one was in a rush to get anywhere on that quiet Saturday afternoon. 

They spent most of the afternoon out in the very spacious backyard. Nyssa wore the black dress she’d bought with Sara and Dinah, and she received an abundance of compliments on it, which had her feeling all the more confident. Sara was wearing white jean shorts, a sea foam v neck and her black blazer with the sleeves rolled up. They almost looked like they should’ve been going country clubbing. Sara made a joke about that. Nyssa didn’t understand it, but it had Lyla snickering, so it must’ve been decently amusing. 

There was music playing from a speaker masquerading as a colorfully lit jukebox, and Cisco and Roy had spent a good fifteen minutes engaged in what became a heated dance battle until Lois, with her titanic competitive streak, pushed her way into the middle of the circle and whipped out a few epic moves that earned her their much deserved respect. 

By the time everyone was digging into the expertly grilled burgers, chicken, or the vegetable alternative, people had finally stopped seeming surprised by how smoothly Sara was handling everything. It was only May, so the warmth faded a bit as the sun sank, but she lit the nice, big fire pit on the stone patio, and that kept the temperature comfortable. When the sky started to go pink, she flipped a switch to turn on an extensive arrangement of fairy lights. She had strung them up through the trees ringing their yard while Nyssa was still sleeping that morning, and she looked to her fiancée hopefully. 

“Do you like it?”

Nyssa set down her empty plate, intertwined their fingers and kissed her cheek. “It is beautiful, Beloved.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Sap,” Clark teased. Neither woman minded, since he was really the sappiest of all of them, anyway. Lois amusedly reminded him of that fact, but he just grinned at her. 

“You’re totally whipped, Kent,” Sara laughed. “Let’s go inside. Gift time.”

Nyssa looked at her in surprise. She was honored enough that all these people—these friends—came to celebrate her birthday. Gifts were unnecessary, and she hoped they hadn’t felt obligated to bring her something. 

“Don’t worry,” Sara assured, sensing her fiancée’s unease. “It’s not what you think.” She guided the brunette into one of the armchairs in the living room and curled up on her lap, partly to maximize the seating space for their guests, partly to keep Nyssa from bolting, and mostly because it was one of her favorite places to be.

Sin cleared her throat, standing in front of the tv, facing the group, a hint of nerves playing across her features. She announced, mostly to Nyssa, “I’ve got something else for you, in addition to the big thing, so I’m going first, because there’s no way I can follow _that_.”

The words “big thing” made Nyssa uncomfortable. She was very unused to this sort of positive attention. This unmotivated friendship. Plenty League members had tried to gain the favor of the Heir in an effort to improve their station. But these people had no ulterior motive in being nice to her. It was both refreshing and oddly foreign. But she focused on what Sin was saying. 

The teen reminded her, while filling in the other guests, “Several years ago, on my twelfth birthday, you gave me this.” She held up a small silver compass on a chain. “You said it was a tradition, in your culture, for a parent to give their child somethin’ that symbolized success or what they were proud of or…whatever,” Sin said dismissively, trying to pretend this didn’t mean as much to her as it obviously did. 

“You said it’s supposed to be a coming of age thing. Since you weren’t around much, ya gave me the thing _your_ dad gave _you_ : this compass, made from the arrowhead of your first bullseye. And told me to look at it as a reminder that you an’ Sara would always be with me, no matter how far away you were.”

Sara, who was trying desperately not to cry, felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Laurel, tears shining in her eyes. 

Sin continued, “So, since you gave me your gift, I figured it’d only be fair if I gave ya one back. Growin’ up in the Glades wasn’t easy, an’ I used to get picked on for bein’ such a tomboy. Then you taught me how to defend myself, and everything changed. I won my first fight with a broken glass bottle, and I know that’s not the sorta thing you should tell your moms, but it’s the truth, and I mighta gotten beat pretty bad if it weren’t for what I learned from you guys. So I had this made.” She handed Nyssa a box that was about a foot long and tied with a dark purple ribbon. 

Nyssa opened the box delicately, not trusting her own emotions, though her fingers never shook. Inside was a beautiful, blue glass arrow. With intuition ringing in her ears, she carefully lifted it close enough to discern that the arrowhead was engraved with the same patterns and inscriptions as her own traditional weaponry. As she turned it over in her hands, awed, her fingers brushed over grooves on the shaft, and she adjusted her grip to read a neat inscription that ran from head to fletching. 

 _Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs…who accept you for who you are._  

Only when the arrow was back in its padded box and safely set down on the coffee table did Nyssa spring from the chair and crush Sin in her arms. The teen grinned into Nyssa’s shoulder, returning the hug for a long moment before playfully wriggling away, joking, “Enough mushiness. Since when are we one of those _emotional_ families?”

Sara, who’d been displaced by Nyssa’s abrupt movement, ruffled Sin’s hair before tugging Nyssa back to the armchair. Sin scowled, frantically fixing it, but the annoyance was fleeting as she took a cue from Sara and directed everyone’s attention to the large flatscreen for the “big thing”. Then she turned off the lights and took a seat on the floor in front of the armchair, leaning back against Nyssa’s legs. 

As Sin pressed play on the remote, Sara whispered to Nyssa, “If you hate this, it’s a hundred percent your sister’s fault.”

A familiar voice echoed through the speakers, _“Even if we can’t find heaven,”_ and then, on the beat, the same motion—one hand reaching out to take another—flashed repeatedly during the line, _“Hands / Put your empty hands in mine.”_   Each pair of hands was from different people, and, even though nothing past the wrist was visible, they sparked recognition in the back of Nyssa’s mind. She was sure she knew who the voice belonged to, but it was so unexpected that doubt edged in. The next line, however, brought certainty. Instead of hands, they watched the unidentified people show off their scars in another series of close-ups. Her heart surged with gratefulness at the sight of a slim hand tugging the collar of a blouse to reveal a bullet wound. She’d heard that story. And, yes that was most definitely Sara singing, _“And scars / Show me all the scars you hide,”_ as she pulled aside her unbuttoned flannel to reveal a pale expanse of skin that would’ve been unmarred but for the small red line of sharpie above her heart. 

Nyssa’s left hand slipped up from Sara’s waist to touch that spot on her beloved, which had, before the effects of the Lazarus Pit, borne that very scar. Simultaneously, Sara’s fingers slid into the palm of Nyssa’s right hand to stroke one of two barely visible lines that ran across it. Their scars had been a set, obtained on a mission when they’d been taken by surprise. In what had once—before leaving and dying and time travel—been the most terrifying moment of Nyssa’s life, an archer took a direct shot at Sara’s heart. She hadn’t been able to think enough to do anything more than reach up and snatch the arrow before it struck its target. Because of their positioning and the timing, she’d closed her hand as soon as possible, not willing to risk anything deeper than a nick to Sara’s sternum. The action earned her wounds from the arrowhead slicing through her palm, but it was infinitely better than the damage it would have caused her beloved. 

The whole rest of the video was beautifully shot and equally sentimental. At the first chorus, it opened up to show that all of their friends were involved. Barry and Lois did most of the more significant, discernible backup singing, and Cisco was on the drums, and William was there on Sara’s shoulders. It was magnificent and touching and Nyssa blinked back tears for the second time in less than ten minutes, which…really. Absurdly emotional. She didn’t even notice Sin shift away from the foot of the chair. After two weeks of planning, filming and editing, Sara, who was watching Nyssa and not the video, was relieved to see the appreciation on Nyssa’s face.

As the song came to an end, everything else faded out and there was the Canary, standing alone. On screen, Sara whispered the last line, _“I’m gonna stand by you,”_ and sank onto one knee, grinning—always grinning. The Sara in Nyssa’s lap turned over her hand—the one on Nyssa’s knee—and Nyssa looked down to see a ring in her open palm. 

“You asked me first. Didn’t seem fair that I never got the opportunity to ask you. Because I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I need you to know that I’m not just _accepting_ you, Nys. I’m _choosing_ you, too. Forever. So I’m doin’ this right.” Sara slipped off Nyssa’s lap and knelt down, mirroring the pose in the video. 

“For the last eight years, you’ve meant more to me than I could ever put into words. You gave me something to believe in when I was sure I wouldn’t believe in _anything_ again. We’ve been through things that would destroy normal people. I would go to the edge of the universe for you, and I know you’d do the same for me. But, above all else, I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. And it’s the kind of hurt I can’t imagine living without. So, Nyssa al Ghul, will you marry me?”

Nyssa tried to keep her emotions in check, but she couldn’t control her bright smile as she replied, “If you insist.”

Sara laughed, “You are amenable?”

“I am amenable.”

Then she hauled Sara off the floor and kissed her like the world was about to end. Sara slipped the ring onto Nyssa’s finger and jumped up with both fists in the air, exclaiming, “She said yes!” as if the entire room hadn’t just silently watched the exchange. 

Laurel and Talia simultaneously snickered, “Lunatic.”

Clark pointed out, “Technically, she didn’t.”

Cisco started to chant, “Sara and Nyssa, sitting in a tree…” only to be harshly elbowed by Caitlin, who hissed his name and gave him a sharp look as a reminder that he had a secret to help keep. 

“What?” he whisper-whined. “It was a _joke_.”

“That they’re pregnant, or that they think they’re doing a good job hiding it?”

Both Caitlin and Cisco jumped at the appearance of Lois in their corner of the room. Caitlin fumbled clumsily with her wine glass, thankfully righting it before she could ruin her white dress. She whispered, “Miss Lane…or, uh, Mrs. Kent?…um, I mean…” she looked to Cisco desperately and squeaked, “Help?”

“Lois is fine, Dr. Snow.”

“Just Caitlin, please.”

Cisco sighed. “I wish I had a title other than Mister.”

Leaning back to recline against the wall, Caitlin asked, “So, Lois, how’d you know?” She was careful to keep her voice down, because she would _not_ be the one to spill Sara and Nyssa’s decidedly large secret. 

“Please,” Lois proudly smirked. “I’m an investigative reporter. It was painfully obvious. First off, _everyone_ is drinking alcohol—everyone of age, anyway—but Sara’s got water. I think she realized an hour ago that it might look suspicious, so now she’s drinking it from a beer bottle, but I watched her fill that thing up in the kitchen. And she rinsed it out so thoroughly one might accuse the girl of having OCD. Obviously, she’s being overly cautious for a reason.

“And then there’s the way Nyssa keeps touching Sara’s stomach. It’s as if her world revolves around it. Like she can’t believe she could be so lucky,” Lois said fondly, remembering how that felt. She laughed. “Plus, I’m pretty sure I saw Sara dip a potato chip in Sriracha mayo, and I’m really hoping that’s a craving, not something she does regularly.”

“Fair enough,” Cisco acquiesced. “But it’s a secret, so…”

Lois pinned him with a skeptical look. “Are you implying that you are more capable than I am of keeping a secret?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m guessing “no” is the right answer?”

Across the room, Talia and Lyla, of all people, had ganged up on Clark and Dig. 

“Really, you don’t think we give men the benefit of the doubt?” Talia was scoffing.

Dig huffed, “Yes. It’s pretty stereotypical to say—”

“John, what’s different about me?” Lyla cut in.

“Uh, what?”

She rolled her eyes and asked again, “What’s different about me? What’s changed since yesterday?”

Caught off guard, the former army man blinked like a deer in headlights. He took a shot in the dark: “You…uh…got your nails done?”

“John, I haven’t worn nail polish for years.”

“Um…”

“Haircut,” Felicity hissed helpfully as she strode past. 

Dig let out a long, understanding, “Oh,” followed by, “I see it now. It looks good.”

Lyla just rolled her eyes. 

Clark protested, “Maybe _some_ men are less observant, but we don’t all fall under that generalization.” He was quite sure that his Kryptonian DNA and resulting superiority meant he’d lack such shortcomings. 

“Is that so, Kent?” Talia questioned with a smirk.

Lyla forced her mind away from thinking about how _Reporter_ Clark Kent knew _Nyssa’s Sister_ , Talia, whose last name and associations and place of residence they’d coincidentally—yes, _coincidentally_ —not discussed, because she was still the director of A.R.G.U.S, dammit, and she had responsibilities and obligations and this was so…dubious. Not that shepherding pigtailed lunatics and sewer mutants was expressly morally sound. At least her friends weren’t playing host to green hair and bleached skin. As far as questionable acquaintances go, this crowd was a lot less…murder-y. 

She refocused on the conversation as Talia was saying, “Just saying, you may have some damage control ahead. Doubly so if you still haven’t determined what for.”

“Wha–how should I…hmph,” Clark huffed, “Well, you’ve been helpful as always, Talia. I’ll just be…” And he marched off in search of Felicity, who was apparently the only sympathetic woman around. Maybe she could tell him.

Lois smoothly dodged her husband, who found himself cornered by Cisco, and glided over to their group. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she drawled, “Thanks, Tal.” 

Talia smirked, asking, “For the flowers and chocolate and attention you’ll be drowning in for the foreseeable future? You’re very welcome.”

With a shake of her head, Lois redirected her attention, eyes glinting. 

“So, Lyla, I understand there’ve been some changes in the leadership of certain… _organizations_ since we last saw each other. Are congratulations in order?”

Keeping her expression casual, Lyla shrugged and offered, “Just a small promotion here. Nothing to write home about.” 

“Ah, well, congratulations anyway,” Lois remarked, undeterred. She was Mad Dog Lane, possibly the greatest investigative reporter of their time. Likely enough, she already knew the truth. So it wasn’t too shocking when she offhandedly said, “I was in Louisiana recently. Terrebonne Parish? Working on an article about Belle Reve. It’s pretty tough to get decent information out of those wardens. Don’t suppose you know anyone out there?”

Dig chuckled and commented under his breath, “Gotta respect a hustle.”

It was Sara who appeared out of nowhere—seriously, that former assassin thing…—and rescued Lyla. The blonde tugged Lois’s arm and insisted, “Lo, I need your help. I’m trying to tell that story, Y’know, the one about that guy at the bar in Metropolis? But it’s so much funnier when we tell it together.”

As they walked along the edge of the room, Lois glanced sideways at Sara and whispered amusedly, “Christ, Sara. Sometimes, you’re a freaking ninja, but others you’ve got the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.” 

Sara squinted at her friend. “Huh?”

“You’re walking like you’ve got the heavyweight champion of the world shadowboxing on your bladder.”

“Um,” Sara squirmed. “I have to pee? But like…I don’t? I don’t know.”

As they walked into the hall between the living room and the foyer, Lois admitted, “I know. Been there. How’s the nausea?”

“Eh, it comes and goes,” Sara replied with a vague wave of her hand. 

Lois pulled her into a hug. “Congratulations, hun.”

Grinning, Sara squeezed back and sighed, “This whole keeping it a secret thing isn’t working so well.” She led Lois into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge.

“You’re doing fine,” Lois assured her. “Maybe just tone down the… Please tell me you’re not about to put mustard on that cookie. Oh, ew, Sara. That’s just horrible.”

“Mfph, ’s nah so bad,” the blonde argued, munching on the now sickly yellow sugar cookie. 

Lois grimaced. “It is. And worse when I have to watch you chew it.”

“Luhk you didn’ get cravingth.”

“Mine were normal. Pickles and ice cream. Mostly one or the other. Sometimes both together. Plus orange juice and going to the beach, but that was probably because of the Kryptonian DNA. Yellow sun exposure or something.”

Sara finished her cookie and pointed out, “So we’re _both_ entitled to unusual cravings. Y’know, ‘cause miracle babies and all.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yours is half alien, and mine’s got two biological moms.”

“Biological?” Lois echoed. At Sara’s nod, she smiled. “Science or magic?”

The way the blonde said, “Science,” it sounded a lot like _magic_.

Lois mused, “Isn’t it incredible what scientists have come up with? My grandparents were amazed every time the TV turned on, and your kid’s got two moms.”

“This awe from the woman whose husband can fly.”

“Touché.”

“Do you think about it much?” Sara wondered. “I mean, like, I’m sure you’ve gotten so used to it, but does it ever randomly occur to you all over again how crazy it is? I don’t think I’d be able to wrap my head around being married to an alien.”

Lois countered, “Isn’t your fiancée technically a _myth_?”

Sliding the reporter a fresh beer and refilling her unconventional water bottle, Sara grinned and acknowledged, “Good point. The other night, I said, _“Oh, God,”_ and she said, _“Wrong deity.”_ I called her “Your Demoness” for the rest of the night.”

“Kinky,” Lois chuckled. “Take advantage while you—Oh, Christ, Sara! Will you stop that?”

Sara licked the remaining mustard off the back of the spoon and shrugged dismissively. “What do you think that makes me?”

Lois blinked. “Huh?”

“Nys is supposedly, like, a deity in some cultures. Because of all the mysticism crap—”

“Mysticism crap that brought you back from the dead,” Lois points out.

“Yeah, right. Anyway. You know how much of a fit religious people throw when anyone dares suggest that their deity could’ve been, like…not perfectly holy,” the blonde noted flippantly. “Imagine what they’d think of me. It’d be like if Jesus walked into church on Good Friday with a giant sign over his head that said, “Queer As Fuck” and started making out with Kanye. Okay, wait, I’d be Kanye in that situation, and I am _not_ Kanye, because… What?”

Lois was peering at her questioningly. “Nothing. It’s just… You’ve always been so insistent on identifying as bi.”

Running a hand through her hair, Sara nodded. “I didn’t– _don’t_ want anyone to think I’m ashamed of my sexuality. I spent so much time tied to identities defined by other people. Shit in high school, what Ivo made me on the Amazo, who I had to become with the League, the person Oliver expected me to be after. When you’re being twisted into something you don’t recognize, it’s a relief that the one thing no one questions is your heart and your right to give it to whoever you want. So, if that’s what it comes down to, I’m gonna own it. 

“Besides,” she hedged, “I _am_ queer as fuck. It’s an umbrella term, right?” 

“Uh huh,” hummed Lois. “But, okay, back to this Jesus-Nyssa, you as Kanye situation…”

Sara laughed. That was why Lois was such a good friend. She could tell when Sara wanted to talk and when she wanted to get it out and move on. 

Rolling her shoulder, Lois reached for a cookie, then thought better of it. 

“Now I’m picturing you cutting off one of Oliver’s speeches like, “Yo, Ollie”–” Lois’s impression of Sara was oddly uncanny. “–“I’m really happy for you, and I’mma let you finish, but…”

“Nyssa is one of the best archers of all time,” the Canary declared emphatically, proud of picking up on a pop culture reference from her time off-grid.

“That may be a bit of a stretch, Beloved.”

Spinning around and bouncing on her toes, Sara grinned and threw her arms wide. 

“Hey, babe!”

Nyssa strode over and leaned into her fiancée’s embrace, asking Lois, “Do I want to know what you were talking about?” 

Shrugging and reaching for a carrot—the one available food Sara hadn’t yet bastardized—Lois summarized, “The hypothetical situation wherein Jesus non-platonically loves Kanye more than Kanye loves Kanye.”

“A simple “no” would have sufficed.”

Sin appeared then, swiping a sugar cookie and raising an eyebrow at Lois’s wince. “This sounds interesting,” the teen declared. 

“I’m just saying,” explained Sara, “there are people out there—weird, fucked up people, but still—who would totally lose their shit if they knew that the Demon’s Head kneels to a skinny white girl from Starling City.”

“Star City,” Sin helpfully reminded her. “And ew, by the way.”

“Oh, who really gives a fuck?”

Joining them at the island, Laurel remarked, “The city, apparently.”

“And Ray,” Thea noted from the doorway.

“Yeah, well.” Sara huffed. “He knows what I think of it.”

Oliver walked in and stood next to Thea. “Fill me in?”

“Um, I’m not entirely sure. Something about Nyssa being gay Jesus. And Sara might be pursuing a rap career? Or running for president in 2020?”

Sara cocked her head thoughtfully. “Maybe I should.”

“You won’t be old enough,” objected Laurel. “You’ve gotta be at least 35.”

“I will so, if you count the time travel.”

Sin brandished a carrot, arguing, “But are you even still a citizen? You died here, and then you were reborn in Tibet. Does that make you Tibetan? How does that work?” 

“Psh,” Sara said, waving it off. “We’ll just gloss over that part.”

“You do have the money to kickstart a campaign,” Thea acknowledged.

Grinning, Sara added, “My First Lady can do all the responsible and diplomatic stuff.”

“Oh, the irony,” Talia snickered.

“Hold on,” Lois interrupted sternly. “Why are we actually discussing this as if it’s a thing that’s even remotely realistic?” 

“Hey! I could totally be president. Right, Daddy?” Sara shouted.

In the other room, Quentin raised his eyebrows, but wisely said nothing. 

Sara grumbled, “Yeah, ‘preciate the support,” and Lois smirked.

“I’d vote for her,” Clark offered, leaning in around the doorway.

“Thank you, Clark,” Sara replied with a grin. 

 

“So,” Sara asked a few hours later, “would you, really? Vote for me, I mean?”

It was near midnight, and almost everyone had gone home. The Canary and the Man of Steel were out in the backyard, lying on their backs in the grass and pointing out constellations. 

Clark shrugged. “Sure. Why not? It’s not like we have an abundance of more legitimate candidates.”

“Ugh, I know. I really should check on my status, and citizenship stuff, and register to vote and all that, but they’re not making it very enticing.” Still squinting up at the stars, she hugged her knees to her chest, mostly because it was comfortable and only a little bit because she still could. Or partly because it was comfortable. Well, okay, definitely at least a little comfortable before her balance shifted a hair, and she ended up wobbling onto her side, grass itchy against her cheek.

With a grunt, she rolled back into the original prone position and asked, “Is there anything livable out there? Better options?”

“Nothing close enough.”

It wasn’t a no, and little green creatures flashed through Sara’s mind before she remembered she was talking to the real deal. 

“Anyway,” Clark reasoned, “we’re the heroes, so we’d be obligated to bring _everyone_ , and then we’d be in the same position we are now, except on a planet without Big Belly Burger.”

“Yeah, that sounds awful. Never mind. Let’s not do that.”

They lapsed back into companionable silence.

“Clark Jerome Kent!”

Sara and Clark froze. 

“Did your wife just go full name on you?”

Clark grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

Relaxing, Sara laughed, “What’s unfortunate is that middle name. Jerome? Really?”

“Hey,” he pouted, “it’s not like I chose it.”

“Clark!” Lois barked again in that authoritative tone she picked up from being an army brat, voice echoing from somewhere inside the house. 

Pushing herself up to sit cross-legged in the grass, Sara poked his shoulder and whispered, “Sounds like you’re in trouble. What’d ya do?” 

“No idea. Which is always worse because I _should_ know, apparently.”

“I know, right?!” Sara commiserated, throwing her hands out passionately. “Are we supposed to be mind readers or something? Because that’s not in my skill set.”

Lois’s voice pierced through the patio door again. “If you’re ignoring me… I swear to God.”

Sara smirked. “Better answer her, Jerome.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Then they heard, “Sara? Sara Lance, where _are_ you?”

The blonde paled at the sound of Nyssa’s voice. Clark took up the smirk.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he teased.

“Uh oh,” Sara mumbled. “At least she hasn’t–”

“ _Taer al Asfer_ , if I have to come find you…” 

In a panic, Sara scrambled to her feet. “Here! We’re out here! Sorry!”

“Traitor,” Clark hissed. 

The door clicked open and shut, and the patio light flicked on, revealing Lois and Nyssa with matching scowls. Clark squinted up at them as Sara sank back down, fingers curling absently in the grass. 

“Don’t pull the grass, Beloved,” Nyssa admonished gently. Okay, she didn’t sound too mad. That boded well for Sara. 

“Heeyyy, Lois,” Clark murmured. 

Lois shook her head, growling, “What the hell were you thinking, Clark?”

“Um…that you’re pretty?” he ventured.

“No, this. Explain _this_.” She held up the silver platter they’d used to bring fruit to the party and turned it over, indicating something on the back. 

Her husband blinked. “You said to put our name on it.”

“With a sticky note. I didn’t mean _engrave_ it with your heat vision, you idiot.”

“Gee, Lois. Well, you could’ve been more specific.”

“Clark!” She grumbled, “This is a really nice piece. You’re so lucky it isn’t damaged.”

He looked affronted at the suggestion that he had anything less than perfect control over his powers. Regardless, he apologized and got up to kiss Lois’s cheek, smiling when she gave in and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Alrighty,” Sara declared, standing again and wiping her hands off against her thighs. 

“Sara…”

She squirmed. “Nyssa?”

There was a warm glint as Nyssa held up Sara’s favorite copper mug, made all the better, in Sara’s opinion, by the very new engraving on the bottom that read, _“Runner-up in Places Sara Lance Likes to Put Her Mouth.”_ She thought it was decently clever. Clark had rolled his eyes but laughed and carved it anyway, so that was a win. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Nyssa asked, dangling the mug from her index finger by the handle. “You did leave it upside down in the sink.”

“Hey,” Sara countered teasingly, “it’s not on me how your dirty mind interprets it.” 

Obliterating the space between them in a few long strides, Nyssa grabbed Sara’s chin and looked her in the eyes fiercely. She purred, “Well _your_ dirty mind had better be on the same page as mine, or second best will be all you enjoy for the next week.” 

“I’d be more than happy to demonstrate exactly where my mind’s at,” Sara rasped.

Clark cleared his throat. They could whisper all they wanted; he still had super hearing. “Well, I think we should get going.”

Without looking up, Sara hummed in acknowledgement, hands curled possessively into the front of Nyssa’s dress.

Lois added, “Happy birthday, Nyssa.”

The former assassin twisted slightly to look back at them. “Thank you. I am very glad you were able to join us.” 

“Of course,” Clark replied, tightening his hold on Lois and hovering off the ground. “Night,” he managed as he took off, and Sara tugged Nyssa back around.

With practiced ease and Sara’s legs locked around her waist, Nyssa pulled the door open and carried the blonde inside, kicking it shut before pressing Sara up against the glass and kissing her hungrily. When she adjusted her grip, Sara grinned into the kiss. 

“Are you planning on carrying me up the stairs? You know it’s not _my_ birthday.”

“True,” Nyssa said, stealing another kiss. “But, without you, I wouldn’t bother to celebrate.”

At Sara’s appreciative hum, she spun around with the intention of moving things to their room posthaste. She made it all of the ten steps to the kitchen when a throat clearing tore her away from the highly important task of re-confirming Sara’s dental records with her tongue. 

“Ollie?” Sara squeaked, breathing hard. “What are you still doing here?”

“I was waiting to talk to you,” he huffed reproachfully. 

Sara raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

He didn’t take the hint. “Alone would be good.”

“Oliver,” Sara enunciated carefully, “get out of my house.” 

“Fine,” he grumbled, getting up. Then, apparently remembering to be their friend, he fished an envelope out of his pocket and slid it onto the counter. 

“Almost forgot to give this to you. And by that, I mean I was trying to decide whether to keep them for myself. Happy birthday, Nyssa. See you guys later.” And with that, he was gone.

Shifting her weight more securely on Nyssa’s hip, Sara nudged the brunette to open the envelope. So she did, only slightly frustrated by the distraction.

“No way,” Sara breathed, tilting her head to read the details off the two tickets.

“Baseball?” Nyssa asked, recognizing the Rockets logo from Sara’s old t-shirt. 

The blonde was wide-eyed, blinking in wonder. “These seats are incredible. How did he…”

Nyssa carefully returned the tickets to the envelope and set it back on the counter. She nuzzled at Sara’s jaw to regain her attention and said, “It seems you’ll finally have your chance to teach me all about baseball.”

“God,” the Canary groaned, closing her eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

“I just don’t understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as I love you,” Sara sighed. “It makes my brain all fuzzy.”

Nyssa grinned like a fool until Sara kissed her again, chasing away all rational thought beyond the love thrumming through her veins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell, I do so love Lois. She and Clark have always been my faves/OTP. I started reading Superman at age 2, so I do mean _always_. 
> 
> Belle Reve is where the Suicide Squad is held, and Lois actually did work on an article about it, so that's legit.
> 
> I'm thinking the story about the time Sara was going to propose will come out soon, in some form. Also, it occurred to me that Sara and Nyssa playing the newlywed game could be funny. But I guess that's supposed to be a _newlywed_ activity, huh?


	13. The Divinity of Girl Scouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, and a lot of people have been asking for an update. Originally, I had a much longer chapter planned, but it's taking too long to come together, so I'm just posting the first part. If you want to know more about why this update has taken so long, see the end notes.

“Nyssa? Sara? Where are you?” Laurel shouted, pulling off her shoes and setting them neatly on the doormat next to Sara’s haphazardly discarded sneakers. She didn’t dare venture beyond the entryway but could hear muffled footfall on the stairs.

The footsteps were too deliberate to be Sara, and, sure enough, Nyssa strode in, a bounce in her step and the hem of a gray dress skimming her thighs as she brightly greeted her soon-to-be sister in-law, ushering her in and leading the way to the kitchen. 

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Laurel observed, accepting a glass of water. 

“Your sister has that effect.” Met with a grimace, Nyssa rolled her eyes and defended, “Not everything is inherently sexual, Laurel. Should Sara’s libido disappear tomorrow, I’d remain just as determined to spend the rest of my life with her. My happiness is not dependent on what’s underneath her clothing.”

Laurel nodded, then smirked, “Except that she’s growing your kid under there.”

“Yes,” Nyssa agreed fondly, “except that.”

“Well, rest assured my libido is on a safely upward trend,” Sara chirped, skipping into the kitchen and launching herself up to perch on the counter. 

“That’s not reassuring,” Laurel huffed without bothering to question her sister’s eavesdropping. 

Sara fisted a hand around the hem of Nyssa’s dress and tugged her closer so she could brush her fingers through a loosely tangled set of curls. She snarked, “Hate to break it to you, Laurel, but my girl comes first. You’ll have to get your reassurances elsewhere.”

“Your girl?” Nyssa asked in a tone laced with disapproval.

“What? Is that not accurate? I’m pretty sure this,” Sara grabbed Nyssa’s left hand, “means _mine_.” The ring glinted in the late morning light that was filtering in through the large windows. 

“Perhaps, but we are not trapped in one of your dreadfully clichéd coming-of-age movies, Beloved.”

Laurel snickered, “Yeah, Sara. Do better.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Nyssa was just reaching for the kettle when Sara’s frown flipped into a grin, and she hopped down from her perch. The over-energized bouncing earned the blonde nothing more than a raised eyebrow, as Nyssa proceeded to turn on the sink and swing the open kettle under the faucet to fill it. Sara rounded the island to Laurel’s side, dropped her elbows to the countertop, and propped her chin in her hands. It was the too-patient smile that piqued Nyssa’s interest. 

“What are you up to?”

Sara tilted her head slightly. “I can do better,” she declared, chin still in her palms like some moony teen in an old-school diner with checkerboard linoleum. 

“Oh?”

Her smile broadened, and she crooned, “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day.”

Nyssa’s forehead creased in confusion, but the corners of her mouth twitched up. “Do you?”

“When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.”

“It _is_ May,” Nyssa hummed. 

Sara’s head bounced from side to side as she continued, “I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?”

“What is it?” Laurel asked.

Sara grinned triumphantly and announced, “My girl.”

“Persuasive,” Nyssa acknowledged, “but I still prefer any of your many other terms of endearment.”

“Sex kitten?” Sara asked, sliding across the hardwood on socked feet and wrapping her arms around her fiancée’s waist.

Nyssa tilted her head in thought.

“I strongly veto that,” Laurel declared emphatically. 

“We just covered this, Laurel,” Sara replied, slipping toward the island. “You don’t get input.”

“Sara,” Nyssa said warningly. “Must I remind you again not to do that? You could hurt yourself.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Having fun?” she sighed dramatically, sliding around again, taking sprinting starts and twirling gracefully. “Live a little, babe.”

The blonde proceeded to pull out several elegant and well-executed moves, seemingly proving her point, until her sock got caught on a sharp corner of baseboard, and she lost her balance, sitting down hard. She winced. 

“You always have to be right, huh, Nys?”

“I’d rather not be,” Nyssa countered. “Not when it is at your expense. Would you like help getting up?”

“No, I think I’ll just sit here and sulk for a sec.”

Laurel shook her head as Sara started lazily patting the floor around her. The routine was from their younger days, an old inside joke within the Lance family. But it would be new to Nyssa, so she let the other woman ask the necessary question.

Studying Sara’s actions, Nyssa asked, “What on earth are you doing?”

“Looking for my dignity,” Sara quipped instantly. 

To Laurel’s surprise, Nyssa’s response was not the familiar eye roll, but a genuine laugh. From the floor, Sara beamed, far too proud for someone who’d just literally fallen on her ass. She thrust her right arm out at the same moment Nyssa reached down with her own, and they pulled together with practiced fluidity that was still unfamiliar to Laurel. 

“Clever,” Nyssa complimented, using the momentum to tug Sara closer and slide her hand from Sara’s forearm to her waist. “Was it worth injuring yourself?”

“For that laugh? I’d do it again a hundred times.”

“As charming as that is, I’d much rather you didn’t.”

Grinning, Sara teased, “Please. I won’t even have a bruise. You’re just worried people might believe I’m actually this clumsy.”

“Yes,” Nyssa said dryly, “the judgement of strangers is what keeps me up at night.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be. That’s my job.”

Nyssa reached back to turn off the stovetop burner under the whistling kettle. “Of course. How could I forget?”

“Okay,” Laurel interrupted. “Before this gets out of hand… I come bearing gifts.”

“Gifts?” Sara practically squealed.

Laurel reached into her bag. “There may have been some Girl Scouts on my corner when I left home this morning.”

Pumping her fist, Sara lit up at the implication of what Laurel had brought. There was no good substitute for Girl Scout Cookies in Nanda Parbat—or anywhere in Asia, for that matter—and time travel wasn’t really conducive to stopping for cookies. She cheered and held out her hands as Laurel pulled out a green box. 

“Thin Mints!”

“I know you,” Laurel replied, tossing the box to Sara. 

Nyssa frowned as Sara tore open the box. “Cookies, Beloved? Isn’t it a bit early?”

“Is it?” Sara asked, full of false innocence. “Because I’m suddenly craving Girl Scout Cookies. You wouldn’t begrudge me satisfying a craving, would you, babe?” 

“You know I wouldn’t. Even one so fabricated as this. I watched you eat that repulsive concoction last night without complaint.”

Laurel started to ask, “What—”

“You don’t want to know,” Sara promised. “Even I’m grossed out, in hindsight.”

Sara held the box out to her sister, who happily took two cookies. Laurel set one on the marble counter, knowing Nyssa well enough to trust that the surface was clean. The other, she ate quickly, to avoid letting the chocolate coating melt between her fingers. 

It required a lot of cajoling, but the sisters eventually convinced Nyssa to try one. She took a minuscule bite of the Thin Mint, chewed, and swallowed dutifully, like a child forced to eat asparagus. But her eyes widened. She looked from the cookie to Sara to Laurel and back to the cookie, then took a larger bite and let out a tiny moan of approval.

Sara and Laurel made astonished eye contact, and Sara whispered, “You learn something new every day.”

“These Girl Scouts deserve commendation,” Nyssa declared, mostly to herself. 

Laurel padded over to the refrigerator for milk and hesitated for a moment with the door open, studying the contents. The fridge was both well-stocked and well-organized. A whole level was devoted to leafy greens and assorted vegetables. Product labels featured words like organic, which a younger Sara would’ve rolled her eyes at. Compared to the pint of skim Laurel kept for coffee, their gallon of whole milk seemed comically large. The whole picture was very domestic in a way that Laurel still didn’t expect Sara to be; the reality of it hadn’t really sunk in before. 

Everything about Sara had always been transient. Sometimes she was serious; sometimes she was goofy. Sometimes she was a masked vigilante. She moved from place to place constantly. She couldn’t even manage to stick to a vital status. But she was going to be a wife and a _mother_. That was about as permanent as you get. 

“Hey, Sara?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember that time Abigail made a crack about how I’d be spending my money on white paint for my picket fence, and you’d be blowing yours on beer and condoms?”

Sara’s nose scrunched up as she replied, “Uh huh. Why?”

“No reason.” Laurel shrugged, handing her a glass of milk. “Just felt like bringing it up.” They stayed quiet for a minute, but she eventually added, “It’s a good thing you won’t need all that condom money. Kids are expensive.” 

Sara laughed. “Yeah. How ironic.” Then her brow scrunched. “That is ironic, right?”

Laurel frowned, and both sisters turned to Nyssa, who blinked away her chocolate bliss with a look of disappointment. 

“You may recall,” the former assassin noted, “that, while you are both native English speakers, I am, in fact, not.”

Neither Laurel nor Sara flinched.

“English is my _third_ language.”

The Lances remained patiently silent.

“This is pitiful,” Nyssa protested. “But, yes, that would be a case of irony. And I, for one, am grateful that you haven’t spent all our money on condoms.”

“Only a little,” Sara joked. “For special occasions.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes and remarked, “I’m unsure why you’d have ever needed to spend money on such things. I distinctly recall you advising me—quite unsolicited—that “a dude who doesn’t have the balls to buy his own condoms isn’t worth your time.” Is that not so? Or did you think my time was worth more than yours, Beloved?”

Laurel muttered her approval of the advice.

“Nys, whatever “advice” I was spouting back then was completely irrelevant. I was just trying to get you to come out.” Nyssa started to object, but Sara insisted, “You were so far in the closet, I was worried you’d end up in Narnia.”

“Wait a minute,” Laurel interjected. “Really? But I thought…”

Sara shrugged. “It wasn’t about being gay. Coming out meant admitting the capacity to care about something other than the League, and my dearest Nyssa was way too stubborn for that. At first, anyway.” 

“Oh, _I’m_ stubborn, Beloved?”

“Should I list examples, Your Honor? Remember my first week of training, when I took a nunchuck to the head?”

Nyssa grimaced.

“And you said you wanted to check me for a concussion?”

“You were new and my responsibility. I merely wanted to ensure your well-being,” Nyssa insisted. 

Sara smirked. “You were staring at my chest while you said it.” 

“I—”

“And, somehow, that interaction ended with _me_ apologizing.” 

“Yes. Well,” Nyssa cleared her throat. “Perhaps I was right to doubt my own ability to prioritize. Here we are, and the League of Assassins is no more.”

Sara tilted her head. “Are you saying you’d rather be ordering around nitwits in Nanda Parbat than going to prenatal appointments and Lamaze class?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Maybe you two should continue this later,” Laurel recommended. “Thea will have a fit if we’re late for the appointment with the caterer.” 

Nyssa frowned. “We have an appointment with the caterer?” 

“We have a caterer?” Sara asked. 

“And this is why you two are not planning your wedding,” Laurel declared. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Both Lance sisters headed towards the door, with Sara grumbling quietly. But Nyssa hesitated, glancing longingly at the box of Girl Scout Cookies. She picked it up, as if to bring it with her, then set it down. Then she quickly picked it up again and grabbed a single Thin Mint. Taking a bite, she let out another small noise of satisfaction. She didn’t even notice Sara loitering against the doorframe. 

“Okay, calm down,” Sara grunted flatly, snatching the box and shoving it in the cabinet. “I’m getting kinda jealous.”

Nyssa raised an eyebrow. “Jealous? Do you have reason to be?”

“Not sure, but if you start swearing over a chocolate-coated biscuit, I’m going on strike.”

“Somehow, I don’t see you being particularly successful,” Nyssa replied, licking a smear of chocolate off Sara’s bottom lip. 

From the entryway, Laurel shouted, “I swear, if you two aren’t in the car in ten seconds…” 

Sara grinned, gave Nyssa a quick kiss, and whispered, “Race ya.” Then she plucked the rest of the cookie from her fiancée’s fingers and took off. 

“Sara Lance!” Nyssa cried, bounding after her. “Don’t you dare!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I’ve struggled with my muse a bit for this story. The lack of conflict or defined plot makes me feel pretty aimless, and it’s been hard to maintain the motivation to write constant fluff. Also, I’ve been dealing with a lot of loss the past few months. It’s kinda hard to write happy when you’re feeling sucky, and that goes hand in hand with my other issue to make a hell of a writer's block. I’m certainly not put off the fandom, though. Even if this story comes to an end soon, I have plenty more ideas floating around that I intend to follow through with.


	14. Feelin' the Aster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyssa and Sara meet with the caterer and then suit up for a brief…outing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to just give up deferring to whatever the CW’s writers might have planned. At this point, just assume that by now the Justice League et al. has formed and our heroes are members. But I’m not even going to try to explain who convinced this version of Oliver Queen that he should be answerable to Bruce Wayne.
> 
> By the way, if you don’t know the song, Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off, check it out the version with Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers, or else part of this won’t make much sense. (The iTunes preview should be enough to get the point across.)

 Surrounded by half-eaten, artistically-plated hors d’oeuvres, Sara Lance was bored out of her skull. Listening to Laurel and Thea debate about obscure foods had been mildly amusing while it lasted, until Nyssa had butt in and resolved the disagreement. Then the brunette buzzkill had robbed Sara of her even more mild alternative entertainment: tracing patterns on Nyssa’s smooth, tan thigh. She’d shifted her chair and glared when Sara’s fingers had gotten too bold. Sara genuinely couldn’t tell if it was her usual prudishness or a lingering grudge over the stolen cookie. She threw Nyssa a dirty look, which Laurel ended up catching, meaning she now had both her fiancée and her sister giving her disapproving side-eye. 

“So! Dad,” Sara started pointedly, turning to her left to look at her father. “How’s life?”

But conversation with him wasn’t all that entertaining either. On her other side, she could hear Laurel and Nyssa discussing something about the criminal justice system, and her blood boiled over the fact that her fiancée had refused to entertain her in favor of continuing that boring conversation with her sister. Sara picked at a stuffed mushroom and let her grumpiness fester. 

Then she jerked out of her chair abruptly and practically sprinted to the bathroom. 

Nyssa quickly made her excuses and hurried after her. Inside the single bathroom, she found Sara throwing up, blonde hair tied back with an elastic. After shutting and locking the door, which Sara had failed to do in her rush, she twisted the blonde ponytail around her index finger.

“It seems I’ve been replaced,” she joked, rubbing soothing circles on Sara’s back. “And by a cheap drugstore elastic, no less.” 

“Stop it,” Sara groaned. 

Nyssa’s palm faltered in its motion. “Stop what?”

“Stop being cute. I’m trying to stay annoyed at you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you wouldn’t let me—”

“Sara,” Nyssa cut in warningly.

“Don’t _Sara_ me! I wasn’t trying anything devious. Just reminding myself that you’re next to me.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Nyssa whispered. “I hadn’t realized. That is not usually your style.” 

Sara huffed, moving to the sink to rinse out her mouth. “Yeah, well, I’m pregnant. I get to be needy and shit, and you’re not allowed to say anything about it.”

“Of course, my love.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Nyssa wordlessly held out a mint, which Sara accepted before tugging the elastic out of her hair. They stayed silent for a minute while Sara sucked on the mint and Nyssa debated whether to reach out to her. That debate was resolved when Sara slung her arms loosely around her waist and rested her forehead on Nyssa’s shoulder. 

“I realize it’s sorta unfair,” Sara acknowledged eventually.

“What is, Beloved?” 

She nuzzled into Nyssa’s neck and murmured, “That you’re not allowed to be mad at me, but I can feel the whole range of emotions with no judgement.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Nyssa reassured her. “Even if I wanted to, which I do not, I can’t feel slighted.” She smoothed her hands down Sara’s sides. “You are pregnant. This is the happy ending I never thought I’d get.” 

“Ha!” Sara whooped. “Suck it, Snow White. This is what a real fairytale looks like.”

“And I daresay I could beat Prince Charming in combat any day of the week.” 

“You could take on all the Disney princes and villains at once, babe.”

“But then what would you be doing, Beloved?” Nyssa wondered. “You’d never settle for being a damsel in distress.”

Turning to the mirror and baring her teeth for inspection, Sara nonsensically protested, “Hey! I know you come from royalty or whatever, but I could totally be a great princess! They don’t all have to have perfect manners and shit. Like that kinda butch one in that show.” She turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t be so conformist, Nys.”

Nyssa smiled placatingly. “Of course, baby. You’re quite right.” 

“Thanks.”

“Whatever for?”

Sara grinned. “I know it must be hard for you right now not to point out all the ways in which you break from conformity, so thanks for letting me have this, however stupid you think it is.” 

“If it matters to you, then it is important to me,” Nyssa declared. 

“It doesn’t really,” Sara admitted, “but it’s nice to pretend I’m right sometimes. We should probably get back out there, by the way. They’re going to get suspicious.”

They exited the bathroom in time to hear Quentin ask, “What’s in this?” as he held up some sort of stuffed pastry. 

Thea frowned. “Uh, potato, I think.” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s tomato, actually,” Laurel disagreed. 

Sara laughed and called out in a sing-songy voice, “You say potato, I say tomato. Potato. Tomato. They’re very different things. There must be some miscommunication.”

“Who cares?” Thea decided. “As long as you don’t suddenly decide to call the whole thing off.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening, Speedy.” 

Nyssa wrapped her arm around Sara’s waist and guided her back to their seats, adding, “Luckily, differences in speech pattern haven’t really been a point of contention for us.”

“That’s not entirely accurate. I mean, you did make me learn your native language before you’d even consider going out with me” Sara noted thoughtfully.

Rolling her eyes, Nyssa leaned down to whisper in Sara’s ear, “And you’ve repeatedly used that skill to make suggestive comments in front of your unsuspecting family and friends. If your learning Arabic was to anyone’s benefit, it’d be yours.”

“Well, someone’s in a better mood,” Thea noted, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Quentin gave her a murderous glare. Apparently, they were under the impression that the couple had been dealing with something a lot sexier than morning sickness in that bathroom. 

“I haven’t been feeling great,” Sara replied carefully, patting her stomach. “I’m doing a little better now, though.” 

Just then, the overly-enthusiastic caterer bustled in and started inundating them with information about the entrée options. Sara only half listened, casually dancing wandering fingers across Nyssa’s thigh. She suppressed a gleeful smile when Nyssa allowed it but cringed and reluctantly stilled her hand when her dad cleared his throat pointedly. 

“You’d think that’d get less awkward as an adult,” she mumbled. 

“I’m glad it doesn’t,” Quentin admitted.  

 

* * *

 

Oliver intercepted them on the way home. Apparently, there was something afoot in New England that could use a particular skill set honed by Assassins: namely, stealth abilities. And, since the Dynamic Duo was otherwise occupied, Sara and Nyssa would have to make a quick cross-country trip. 

“So you guys get to go all Mission: Impossible?” William asked excitedly, watching them review the briefing.

Nyssa regarded him hesitantly. They all well knew that it wasn’t safe for children to know too much about their world, as hypocritical as that sounded coming from her. “Well, William, going on missions is, in reality, quite different than watching one of those movies.”

Sara snorted. “More fun is what she means.”

Throwing her a sideways glare, Nyssa corrected, “It is a different kind of fun.”

“Yeah,” Sara agreed. “The more kind.”

Oliver stepped out of the shadows of the doorway to the basement and folded his arms over his chest. “And infinitely more dangerous, so don’t get any ideas, kiddo.” 

“Besides,” said Nyssa, “this is a simple reconnaissance…outing. It is not likely to be very exciting.” 

Felicity scoffed. “When is anything ever simple for us?”

“It better be,” Nyssa growled, extending an arm protectively in front of Sara. 

“That sounds dangerously close to you doubting me,” Sara huffed. “And you’ve always been pretty good at not doing that.” 

“Things are different now.”

“Why?” Felicity asked. “Okay, yeah, there was the whole dying thing—which sucked; don’t get me wrong—but she totally came back stronger than before. I mean, if you overlook the whole bloodlust bit, which we seem to, ‘cause no one ever talks about it. Except me just now. But, like, Sara can totally hold your own. Is the point I was trying to make.” She winced apologetically. 

“You died?” William squeaked out, jumping up on the cushion next to Sara and poking her arm. “Are you a zombie?” he asked excitedly.

“No,” Sara laughed. “Well, not anymore, I guess. It was touch and go for a bit.”

“Don’t joke,” Nyssa whispered sullenly. 

“What would you like me to say, babe? I’m fine, now. Better than fine. I’d rather laugh about it than let it break me.” Sara kissed the brunette’s clenched jaw to soften the words and diffuse some of the tension around the morbid subject. 

When Nyssa didn’t unwind, Sara sighed and asked, “Can we talk for a sec?” not waiting for a response before tugging her out of the room for some privacy. 

In a surprising demonstration of sensitivity, considering Oliver was just around the corner, the former assassin wrapped Sara in a secure embrace and pressed her face into the crook of the blonde’s neck. 

“We’ve got to come up with a decent excuse for why you’ve been so overprotective,” Sara decided. “It’s only a matter of time before everyone figures it out.”

Without moving her head, Nyssa replied, “They know we were planning it. And we will have to tell Felicity sooner than the others, so she can help set up the alternate explanation. Unless you want to explain our double lives to your mother.” 

Sara winced. “Ooh, definitely not. She knows enough already. Mom’s kinda a loose canon, and Bats would kill us if we fed her any more secrets.”

“Did you say Bat?” Felicity asked, tapping away on her ever-present tablet. “If you see him or the…Bat-children, can you tell them to back off my systems? I’ve been letting them through for cooperation purposes, but a girl can only take so many backdoor breaches before it gets invasive.” 

“Uh, Lis?” Sara cringed. “That was a little much. Even for me.”

Felicity winced, too, and acknowledged, “Yeah, might’ve overdone it this time. My bad.”

As Oliver walked in, Sara asked, “Does this mean we’ll get to pick up Sin while we’re in the area, or does the team still need her? I know we all have obligations, but I’d kind of like to see the kid. It’s been over a week.” 

Oliver shrugged. “You have the same access I do. You can stop by their HQ and find out yourself.” 

Sara and Nyssa stopped at home to change, then they were off to Rhode Island. Running her fingers over the supple black leather of her “stealth mode” getup, Sara wondered how much longer her outfit would fit. Or, more likely, how much longer Nyssa would let her put it on. There might’ve been a fight about it today if this hadn’t been a routine surveillance mission. It was further reminder that she’d have to make an announcement to her parents sooner or later. She was thrown back to another time—a conversation with her mother long before _The Gambit_. 

 

_“At least Laurel’s focused on the future. Dating,” Dinah clarified, as if she hadn’t been perfectly clear already. “Maybe one of my daughters will give me grandchildren while the other runs around and dances with wolves.”_

_“Mom,” Sara groaned, “chill. It wasn’t that kind of party. I told you, I don’t do drugs.” Mostly._

_Dinah sighed. “And what about dating?”_

_With a look of obvious discomfort, Sara waved her off. “I go out plenty, Mom. I’d tell you if there was anything—anyone worth mentioning.”_

_“No you wouldn’t.”_

_“Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t.”_

 

A lot had changed since then, but at least that was the same. Sara might’ve still been keeping quiet about her engagement if that hadn’t been taken out of her hands. It wasn’t that she was ashamed. Truthfully, Sara was still somewhat…selfish. If her family hadn’t liked Nyssa, navigating her relationships would’ve been difficult. But, if they accepted her—and they had—they’d be enthusiastic about family time. Which they were. That meant less alone time with Nyssa. And, well, as previously stated: selfish. 

 

* * *

 

The recon mission was straightforward, as promised, but not without entertainment value. They were spotted on their way out by an off-duty guard, who apparently cared about his job enough to send out an alert. 

Four men charged them. They’d probably expected that to be more than enough to take the women down. Underestimation, while annoying, occasionally had its benefits. The situation was dealt with swiftly. Sara ducked, allowing Nyssa to deliver a final roundhouse kick to the man charging at her back. 

Nyssa sighed, reaching for Sara’s hand. “I was hoping this might be more interesting.” 

“Have I mentioned that I really love you?” Sara asked with a grin.

“Not nearly enough today,” Nyssa fired back, “but there is still plenty of time for you to make your position clear.” 

 

* * *

 

By the time the door opened to the Titan’s headquarters and broadcasted their arrival, Sara had forgotten where they were headed. So, of course, everyone in the front room looked up as the robotic voice announced, “Canary and Ra’s al Ghul”—they should really see about getting that changed—to see the pair in a heated lip lock. 

Nyssa and Sara separated and glared at the young heroes, prompting them to hastily return to their tasks. That left two figures: one shaking her head, and the other laughing openly. 

“Welcome to the tower, Canary. Ra’s,” Nightwing greeted them warmly, mostly stowing his amusement. “What brings you by?”

“Nightwing,” Sara and Nyssa both replied in return. 

Sara grinned past him. “We’re here to see Sin.”

“Hey fam,” Sin acknowledged. “I see you’re takin’ your parental embarrassment duties to heart.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes, patting Sin’s shoulder once in greeting before looking around curiously. She regarded Nightwing and said, “Your inclination towards secret identities is why I’ve been identified as Ra’s al Ghul, I presume.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Sorry you don’t have something more…suitable, but we’ve all got targets on our backs. Especially now Sin tells me you’re going civilian. I’d like to believe we can trust everyone here, but you never know. We learned that the hard way.” 

“I doubt there is anything more suitable,” Nyssa admitted. “And, as exposing my face means increased risk, I can appreciate that identifying me as the Demon’s Head may prove a useful deterrent to potential attackers.” 

They walked through the halls as they talked, quickly reaching the main room, where a handful of sparring matches were taking place. One, in particular, caught Nyssa’s attention, and she nudged Sara. An Amazonian was going toe-to-toe with a blonde who looked suspiciously—exactly—like Sara in her full Canary garb. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Sara growled, stomping across the room towards the sparring area. 

Her double looked up and squeaked, “Canary!” before rapidly transforming into a lanky teenage boy. 

The real Canary snarled and rolled her shoulders back, aggressively making her smaller body as dominating and intimidating as possible. “This scenario seems eerily familiar,” she snapped. “And I continue to not be a fan.” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” The boy moved jerkily, as if debating whether or not to grovel at her feet. “I’ve been, um, mimicking some of the, uh, heroes so the team can practice reading an opponent’s fighting style.” 

“And you think that was even a pale imitation of my skills?” Sara asked haughtily. 

“Sara,” Nightwing cut in, sounding an awful lot like his mentor. “He’s doing his best. It’s not like we can call the big guns in to come train with the newbies. You all have better things to do.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Sara pointed out. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Nyssa cleared her throat. 

“Aw, c’mon, babe. It’ll be fun.”

“Absolutely not, Beloved.”

Sara looked down at her shoes. “Fine.” Damn she was whipped, huh? But she wouldn’t stand for total compliance. “How ‘bout you go? You have way more years of teaching experience than me. And you know my fighting style.” 

Nightwing perked up. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“Very well,” Nyssa sighed. 

Before she made it all the way over, Sara stopped her and ducked their heads together, whispering, “I love you, Nys, but at least try not to ruin my reputation, please?” 

Nyssa raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Ruin your reputation?”

“I just mean, I’m supposed to be the intimidating, League of Assassins trained hero. Amicable but inaccessible. Y’know? I’ll be the first to admit you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, but you don’t have to flaunt it, alright? These kids need to respect me.” Sara straightened her posture and adopted a look of disinterest for the benefit of the attempted eavesdroppers. 

“I think you have our dynamic confused,” Nyssa observed. “But I understand your point. I recall a similar conversation several years ago.” Right. Back when Sara was the one inadvertently making Nyssa look soft. Now she did it advertently. Oof. Nightwing would appreciate that one. 

Sara nodded firmly. “Good. Now take them out. Not too brutally, but give them something to learn from.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes. “I know how to teach combat, Taer al Asfar.” And, with that, she strode confidently onto the platform. 

The first five seconds were spent with Wonder Woman’s protégé and the boy shaking in their boots at the prospect of taking on Ra’s al Ghul. To be fair, Wonder Girl probably wouldn’t have hesitated against Nyssa’s father, but she had a lot more respect for a fellow female. 

Then Nyssa gave them a withering look, and the next twenty seconds consisted of her dodging their attacks. Sara resisted the primitive urge to catcall, vindicated when Nyssa finally ended the impromptu lesson with ease. The shapeshifter had been flipped onto his back, and WG found herself wrapped up in her own lasso. 

Sara suppressed a grin, for the sake of her image, and merely laid a hand on Nyssa’s arm as she came off the platform. “That seemed effective.” 

Nyssa nodded coolly. “They rely too heavily on their perceived advantages.” 

“Ya might be overdoin’ it just a bit, guys,” Sin pointed out, sounding mildly embarrassed. 

“Overdoing it?” Nightwing snickered. “That was great! With what we see on the daily, I’d say they’re just plain doin’ it.”

Nyssa frowned. “I don’t think that means what you intended, Mister Grayson.”

He sighed. “Jeez, does no one understand the concept of _secret_ identity?” 

“If it’s any consolation—” Sara patted him on the shoulder “—you’re totally right.” 

“Obviously,” he muttered. “Wait…about what?”

“We are. Doing it, that is.” 

“Sara!” Nyssa objected, on the verge of squealing quite uncharacteristically.

Dick Grayson, resigned to his loss of pseudo-anonymity, grinned and held up his fist. “I know. And, may I say: Nice!”

Sara pounded it and grinned back. “Yeah. We’re kinda almost family or something. In a really roundabout way.”

He chuckled, leading her toward an empty corner while Sin tugged Nyssa off on a tour. “I’m the wayward ward and you’re the wayward fiancée, huh? Congratulations.”

“Sin tell you?” Sara guessed. 

“No. It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to see the giant rock on your finger.” A knowing smirk spread across his face. “Or hers. Possessive much?” 

Straightening her own ring, Sara shrugged. “Yeah, kinda.” Then she remembered, “Oh, by the way! A friend, Felicity Smoak, wanted me to tell you to stop trying to hack her. She’d much rather you just ask for what you need, and she’d be happy to provide it. But the hacking’s…offensive, I think?” 

“Hm, yeah, it did seem too easy, considering she’s one of the best. So, you guys are friends?”

“Yep!” 

“And she knows about your secret identity?”

Sara frowned. “Dammit, I guess just handed you that one, huh?”

Dick smirked, full of self-satisfaction. “And basically confirmed that Oliver Queen is Green Arrow.” They were removed enough that no one else heard. He wasn’t stupid. “Which would have been a big deal, if I didn’t already know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sara drawled dismissively. “Your Bat-Daddy’s got files on all of us. I knew that already. I know his secret, too.” 

“It wasn’t meant to be a threat, Sara.”

“Right. Sorry. So you’re not surprised that I know?”

Glancing around again to reconfirm their relative privacy, Dick replied, “Nah. You’re engaged to Ra’s al Ghul. Original, active, or not, it’s kinda essential for her to be informed. Besides, her sister’s practically our new Bat-Mommy,” he snorted. “I hear they’re talking again.”

“Nys and Talia?” Sara smiled. “They are, and I’m glad. What’s Talia said?”

“She’s thrilled that she’s got her sister back and that now she’s getting a new one, too.”

“So you did know!”

He shrugged. “I knew Nyssa was engaged, but I wasn’t sure it was to you until I saw you two sucking face on my doormat.” 

Sara crossed her arms defensively. “Oh, shut up! At least I’m nice enough not to mention the disturbing amount of time you spent running around without pants.”

“Sure, mock the old outfit,” he responded dryly. “I just was a kid.”

Abruptly, Sara frowned, remembering that she’d had other things on the agenda for the day. “It’s been nice to see you, Boy Wonder, but I’d better find my girls and head home.”

“Sure,” Dick agreed. “We’ll probably see more of each other from now on, what with the whole pseudo-family thing. What should I tell Batman, if he asks—again—for an update on your status?” 

“Tell him I’m working on a long-term mission,” Sara replied. “Should take another…six to eight months. If he really doesn’t know already, then Talia’s better than I expected at keeping secrets.” 

He studied her appraisingly. “So you’ll be coming back after, then?” 

She grinned. “You know as well as anyone how hard it is to leave this “business” behind. I’ll probably need this wig for more than secrecy by the time we’re ready to retire.”

Nightwing grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there’s another chapter done. I’m not putting a firm number on it, but there won’t be too many after this.


	15. Love You Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey there, buddy,” Sara whispered, “I know you have no idea what’s going on right now, but it’s chaos out here."

Thea Queen clapped her hands together, surveying the women in front of her. “Okay, so, Sara, we have a few hours to get your dress fitted, then we’re meeting Sin, Nyssa, your mom, and whoever else you invited for dinner. I also scheduled manicures for Thursday, so try to let your nails grow a little, okay? And after we finalize the menu, we have to—”

“I’m not having a manicure,” Sara interrupted resolutely.

Thea frowned. “Why?”

Remembering a promise to Nyssa about being more subtle, Sara squirmed. “I don’t want to, alright?”

“Sara,” Laurel started, joining the conversation. “I know you don’t love girly stuff and whatever, but it’s your _wedding_.”

“I know, Laurel. It’s _my_ wedding.”

Laurel held up her hands in surrender, backing off.

Sara continued, “Look, you can ask Nyssa if she’s in, but I am not doing it, and that’s final.” 

Felicity jumped in, cautiously saying, “Sara, I think what Laurel was trying to say is that this is a big moment. Of course it’s yours. And Nyssa’s. So there’s gonna be a lot of pictures, and it’ll be a day you’ll remember for the rest of your life. No one’s forcing you, we just thought it might be something you’d appreciate in hindsight.” 

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Okay, before I explain anything, I want you guys to know that I’m _trying_. You’re just making it really hard. Yeah, you’re right. I’m not thinking about my wedding right now. I’m thinking about my honeymoon, and I don’t want my nails done. For reasons. Don’t make me paint you a picture.” 

They all stared at her. Felicity blinked. “I don’t get it.”

Then Thea’s eyes widened, and she drawled, “Ohhhhh, I get it.” She leaned over and whispered in Felicity’s ear. Felicity turned bright red. 

Realization seemed to dawn on Laurel as well, and she grimaced and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the thought. “No. Get it out of my head!” 

“What are we talking about?” Quentin asked, strolling casually up to the group. He’d come along because Dinah had insisted on accompanying Nyssa to _her_ dress fitting, and Sara refused to abandon her fiancée to quality time alone with both of her parents. Not that Quentin had really been interested in the fitting itself. He was just insistent on being involved, now that it was crunch time. 

“Girl stuff,” Laurel exclaimed, in answer to his question, at the same time Felicity blurted, “Manischewitz!” 

“Subtle, Felicity,” Sara snorted. 

Quentin grunted, “I’ll take that to mean I don’t want to know. So, are we going?”

Thea agreed and started shepherding them in earnest. Felicity called shotgun, much to Quentin’s bemusement and dismay. He grumbled about being to old to sit in the back seat. 

“I should go, too,” decided Laurel, “and save your fiancée from a hundred questions with Mom.”

“Isn’t it twenty questions?” Sara corrected. 

“Not with our mom.”

“Fair. I’ll see you later.” She let Thea tug her away. 

Sara felt like she’d been pinballed around all morning. Once she was finally alone—in her underwear (wedding lingerie), in the dressing room—she looked down at the gentle curve of her belly and smoothed her hand over it fondly. 

“Hey there, buddy,” she whispered, “I know you have no idea what’s going on right now, but it’s chaos out here. It’ll all be worth it, though, ‘cause I’m marrying your momma in less than a week. Y’know, we’re gonna have to figure out what you’ll call us. Unless you feel like just shouting “Mom” until you get the right one. But I guess we have time for that.” 

She turned and studied her profile in the mirror. The bump was getting harder to hide without changing her normal wardrobe too noticeably, especially because July was too warm for layers. The last time she put on weight this fast was when Nyssa first found and saved her over eight years ago. Both were the start of very important chapters in her life. No surprise that Nyssa was at the heart of them. 

“We’re telling everyone tonight. The whole extended family, which is a lot. So many people are going to love you so much. You’re going to be spoiled, little chicky. I just hope your grandparents don’t freak out.” She sighed and leaned her forehead against the mirror. 

There was a surprised cough, and Sara jerked upright to see that the seamstress had come in with her dress. The woman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Sara felt a flash of panic. Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t like she could do a lot to hide anything in her current state of undress. Besides, she’d dropped a hint last time. Delicately, Sara accepted the dress and went about putting it on. 

“You—you’re…” the seamstress, a ginger about Sara’s age named Jane, whispered, “You’ve gained weight.”

“I told you to expect that!” Sara objected, feeling somewhat offended. 

“Yes, but I thought you meant from nervous eating. This is _baby_ weight.”

Sara huffed, holding the material at her chest so Jane could help her do up the back. “Yeah, well.”

The seamstress smoothed and adjusted everything, finally voicing the burning question, “Isn’t your fiancée a woman?”

“Heterosexual sex isn’t the only way to get pregnant.”

“Oh, so this was…planned?”

Holding in a snide reply, Sara bit her tongue before responding, “To a certain extent. We had an unexpected opportunity, and we took it. Hence the, uh, compressed timeline for the wedding.” 

“Ah, well, congratulations.”

Justifiably underwhelmed, Sara mumbled her thanks and continued to make a conscious effort not to fidget. Ideally, this was it; the dress would fit and fall perfectly, and she—read Thea—could check one more thing off the panic list (called such because that’s what they’d be doing if everything wasn’t crossed off by, like, tomorrow). Not to mention, if it didn’t come home with her that day, she’d be paying through the nose to have the alterations done on time. They could afford it, but there were better ways to spend money. 

“You look beautiful,” Jane said, straightening up. 

She felt it, but, “How many times a day do you say that?”

“A lot,” answered Jane honestly. “There’s some kind of magic that makes every bride look beautiful in her wedding dress. It’s especially true for you, but, more than that, you do look stunning.” 

“Thank you,” Sara breathed, just a little bit awed by her reflection. “Maybe there is something to that pregnancy glow thing.” 

“It definitely doesn’t hurt. You should walk around a bit. Make sure everything feels right.” 

Sara nodded and made to step out, but she hesitated with a hand on her stomach. “Is it obvious?” Once reassured that, no, it wasn’t as glaringly obvious as she felt like it was, she made her way out of the dressing room to where everyone was waiting for her. 

Her father was oblivious. In his defense, he was overwhelmed and distracted by seeing his youngest in a wedding gown. Quentin kept his emotions in check, though, which was more than Sara could say for her mother last month. She was grateful Dinah had chosen to go with Nyssa and give her a reprieve from the waterworks. Seriously, why was everyone around her crying all the time? You’d think she died or something. 

Too soon?

Sara dutifully twirled for her adoring audience. Halfway around, she caught sight of Felicity’s eyes widening. Felicity, who’d complimented her abs not two months ago. Thankfully, the tech whiz kept her mouth shut. If nothing else, she knew Felicity could be trusted to keep a secret for her. 

“You are so beautiful,” said Quentin. “My little girl, all grown up.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to look like a princess,” Sara remarked. 

Her father chuckled. “Actually, when you were lit—”

“This is the first time,” Sara reiterated as Thea snickered. “And the last.” 

Felicity tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t think we’ve heard nearly enough Little Sara stories.” 

“Absolutely not,” Sara objected. 

Thea gave her a pointed look and reminded her, “You have a dad who knows and cares about your childhood. Mild embarrassment is a small price to pay, and you can afford it.” 

Acknowledging that it wouldn’t be right to have this argument in present company, Sara silently conceded and went to the dressing room to check her phone. There was a text message from Laurel saying that they’d run into someone from high school who’d recognized her as Sara’s sister. 

“She said some rude stuff in front of Nyssa,” the text read. “Wanted to give you a heads up.”

“I’m assuming everyone walked away on two legs?” Sara typed back while leaning out to wave Jane over. The dress was back in a garment bag by the time the “Lol, yes” response came through. “Glad you think I was kidding,” she wrote, reaching for her shorts. After buttoning them, she added, “Thanks, btw.” Fully dressed, she made her way to the front to settle everything, informing the others it was time to go. 

“Why the sudden rush?” Felicity asked. 

“Apparently, Nys and Laurel had an encounter with somebody I used to know. I might have to get home and do some damage control.” 

Phone out and panic list open for updating, Thea grinned. “Sometimes I wonder if you weren’t worse than me in high school.”

“No one was worse than you in high school, Speedy,” Sara snorted. 

Back home, Sara managed to bypass her mother, who was staying with them, and catch Nyssa alone. It turned out there wasn’t much damage control to do besides keeping her foot out of her own mouth. Apparently, the supposed old acquaintance had made a snide remark about Sara’s (past) lack of respect for other people’s relationships. 

Sara sighed, “So nothing you didn’t already know about.”

“Does that imply there are things I don’t know?” Nyssa asked. 

“Let’s try this again,” Sara proposed sheepishly, backing a few steps out of the room before remaking her entrance. “Nyssa, sweetheart, darling, love of my life! You are looking particularly ravishing this afternoon.”

“A for effort,” Nyssa smirked.

“But for real,” Sara continued, dropping down onto the bed. “There’s nothing you don’t know. At least, nothing I can remember. It’s just that some people really didn’t like me back then, obviously. I wasn’t counting on honesty.”

Nyssa moved to sit beside her. “I wouldn’t quite call it honesty. She said some things that severely tested my self-control.”

“Thank you for not killing her in my name.”

Humming in acknowledgement, Nyssa pointed out, “We cannot live the way we used to if we intend to start a normal life here.”

Sara grinned and touched her stomach lightly. “And we’ll have to set the right example for little chicky.” 

“What did you just call our child?” Nyssa asked coolly. 

“It’s just a nickname.”

“Yes, but what was it?”

“Chicky. Y’know, ‘cause Birds of Prey and whatever,” Sara tried to explain. “I know you’re technically a ca—” 

“I am technically a human.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Sara insisted, tugging Nyssa close and shifting to drop her head in the brunette’s lap. “That can be your gift to me.”

On instinct, Nyssa’s fingers moved to comb through Sara’s hair. She raised an eyebrow. “Since when are we exchanging gifts?” she asked. 

“Not exchanging,” corrected Sara. “You have to give me something for carrying your child.”

“Is this one of those situations where I’m required to agree with whatever you say?” 

With a nod, Sara reached up and patted Nyssa’s cheek. “I’m pretty sure it’s actually a thing in western culture, though. If you wanna be like the regular daddies.” 

Before Nyssa could respond, there was a knock at the door. Talia’s voice called out, “I’m giving you ten seconds to get decent.”

The couple exchanged looks of bemusement. When the door opened, Nyssa questioned, “Only ten seconds?”

Talia shrugged. “We’re all League trained. That’s a completely reasonable expectation.”

“But I’m pregnant,” Sara argued. 

“You’re barely three months along,” Talia replied, rolling her eyes. “You can’t use that as an excuse yet.”

“Why are you up here?”

Nyssa’s sister made herself comfortable in the armchair by the window. “Your mother started asking me questions about reptiles and the Gotham Zoo, so I thought it’d be better if I just stayed in here.”

“You’re not hiding in our room until our wedding, Talia,” Nyssa informed her dryly. 

“Why not?” Talia absently adjusted the curtains. “How better to ensure you two don’t get up to any funny business until the honeymoon?”

Hand stilling in Sara’s hair, Nyssa frowned. “I—what?”

“Talia, I think you misunderstood American customs. That’s just the night before the wedding.” Not that Sara was excited about the prospect of being separated from Nyssa for any length of time. 

“I’m not talking about American customs. You’re both as obligated to our culture as I am.”

“Which seems to be not at all,” pointed out Nyssa. 

Talia pouted but acquiesced,“Fair enough.”

Sara glanced at the clock and realized people would be arriving soon for dinner. By the end of the night, everyone would know about the pregnancy, and she wanted just a little more time alone with Nyssa before they had to deal with that. So she convinced Talia to go downstairs, requesting that she make herself useful and set the table. 

Once they had their privacy back, Sara dragged Nyssa all the way down onto the bed and curled into her side. Snuggling in, she whispered, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always.”

“That’s different from your usual form,” Nyssa murmured. 

“It’s from a children’s book,” Sara explained. “One of my favorites.”

Nyssa wriggled her arm under and around Sara’s waist. “We’ll have to read it to the baby.”

“Someone’s bound to get it for us. It’s a classic.” Sara let the comfortable silence linger for a moment, then she said, “Stuff from my childhood is gonna be easy, especially once my parents know, but I don’t want you to think…” She hesitated, needing to make sure this came out right. “I need you to know there’s a place for yours, too. We’re not raising an heir to the Demon, but he is going to be as much the child of Nyssa al Ghul as Sara Lance, alright? I don’t want you to leave your culture behind entirely.” 

“He?”

“Just a feeling,” Sara chuckled. 

Regardless of Sara’s best intentions, Nyssa wasn’t sure how much childhood was left once she stripped away the violence from her own. “Do you remember what I used to say when you would come to bed injured?” She felt the nod against her shoulder. “That was an old lullaby.”

“Should I be disappointed you never sang to me?” 

Nyssa chuckled. “Be grateful. Now, what was yours? I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always…”

“As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be,” Sara finished.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the big announcement! How do you think everyone will react?


	16. Not Ever After, But Happily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah began to weep as she clutched the image. “Oh, my god. My baby’s pregnant.”

Setting her fork down, Nyssa glanced surreptitiously around the table. To her right, Sara was cheerfully serving herself a second helping of Brussels sprouts. On her other side, William was holding out his glass for Talia to refill with the heavy water pitcher, which he’d been told not to lift on his own in anticipation of an accident. William had quickly taken to Talia—her relation to Nyssa gave her instant validation—but the same couldn’t be said for his father. Even with Barry and Felicity as a buffer, Oliver was eyeing Talia distrustfully. Nyssa couldn’t fault him for that; if it weren’t for Sara, she probably still wouldn’t be talking to her sister. 

Speaking of sisters, Laurel was sitting across the table between Quentin and Dinah. That situation was completely beyond Nyssa. There were times when the Lance sisters acted as if direct contact between their parents would result in nuclear war but others when they seemed to forget about the divorce altogether. From what Nyssa had seen, she wasn’t even clear on why the two were divorced. They seemed to get along well. But maybe Nyssa’s perspective on marriage was simplistic. 

Then again, her ex-husband was sitting at her dinner table. 

That wasn’t worth dwelling on at the moment, so she turned her attention to where Sin, Thea and Roy sat between Quentin and Sara. They had told Sin the news about the pregnancy that morning, and Nyssa had been uncharacteristically anxious about doing so. She—

“Babe?” Sara leaned in, swallowing a mouthful of greens, her tone especially sweet. “Can you grab me a potato?” It was like she knew that Nyssa needed a minute to get her head together—and, probably, she did know—so Nyssa readily accepted the excuse to retreat momentarily to the kitchen. 

“Thank you,” Sara sang after her.

Alone in the kitchen, Nyssa reflected on that morning. 

 

* * *

 

_A tiny, brutally logical part of her brain that Nyssa couldn’t suppress was worried about how Sin would react to their announcement. Sure, she’d encouraged them, infiltrated Cadmus to make it happen, but maybe the reality of it hadn’t sunk in. Sin was adopted. If Talia, even with her biological tether, had seen Nyssa’s birth as her own replacement, how would Sin feel?_

_The baby would have them full-time, would grow up in a big house in a nice neighborhood. Sin had had none of that security. Sara and Nyssa had gotten away with using the League as an excuse, but, to a certain extent, Sin’s teacher was right about their absentee parenting. They hadn’t done right by their daughter. Nyssa should’ve had the courage to walk away from the League years earlier. How different would things be if she had? Not that she’d ever want to turn the clock back to find out; their cohort, more than anyone, knew how dangerous that was._

_“Nys?” Sara broke her out of her reverie. “Thinkin’ too hard about something?”_

_Nyssa gave a curt shake of her head. “Sorry,” she said, “I was just distracted. It’s nothing.”_

_“You know,” Sara hummed, stroking Nyssa’s jaw playfully, “that brooding thing you’ve got going on is really working for me.”_

_“Brooding? Is this not how I usually am?”_

_“Exactly,” Sara giggled. “You ready?”_

_“Are you?”_

_She laughed. “Nope.”_

_Nyssa frowned. “We don’t have to—”_

_“Yes, we do.” Sara patted her knee. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” She got up from the end of the bed, where they were sitting, and led her fiancée downstairs to the kitchen, where Sin was at the island, eating breakfast._

_“Nyssa and I have an announcement to make,”_

_“Are ya finally givin’ me a sibling?” Sin guessed with faux childish enthusiasm, glancing up from her bowl of cereal to smirk at them._

_Sara and Nyssa looked at Sin, then each other, then down at Sara’s abdomen, then back at each other._

_“Um…”_

_“Wait, seriously?” Sin nearly squealed. “It worked?” At their nod, she sprang out of her seat and launched herself at them. The hug and approval was a welcome relief for Nyssa. “So, how’re ya gonna tell everyone?”_

 

* * *

 

Nyssa returned to the table with the requested potato—diced, because watching Sara eat a raw potato whole was oddly unsettling—and slid back into her seat. She earned a pleased smile from Sara, who proceeded to eagerly spear a cube. 

The crunch of solid spud between her teeth was surprisingly loud, even with the appropriate expectations. This craving wasn’t new, so Nyssa was almost prepared for it, but it caught the attention of several other people at the table. 

Dinah squinted appraisingly at her daughter, who was oblivious to the sudden scrutiny. “Sara,” she probed, “is that raw? How can you eat that?”

Sara shrugged and nonchalantly replied, “You know. Cravings.” 

“That’s a very strange craving,” her mother protested. 

“I find it is preferable to the indiscriminate combinations of pickles and condiments,” Nyssa commented, reaching for her glass. “Though I’m quite possibly becoming desensitized.”

When she scanned the table for reactions, she got an eye roll from her sister and a knowing smirk from Laurel. Sin was very obviously struggling to keep a straight face. And both of Sara’s parents were frowning, apparently processing the clues. 

“Back when—”

Whatever Quentin meant to say was interrupted by silverware clattering onto the table as Dinah’s hands flew to her mouth and she sobbed, “Oh, my god!” 

“Surprise!” Sin joked. 

By that point, the entire table had gone quiet. 

“Is this a prank?” Dinah accused. Her hands still hovered near her mouth, and she looked somewhat distraught. “Sara?”

“Nope. We’re pregnant!” Sara declared. There was a faint flush to her cheeks, indicative of a full-bodied emotional vibrancy that her stoicism usually suppressed. 

Stifling a laugh, Nyssa hastily clarified, “We are expecting. Only Sara is actually pregnant.” 

Unfortunately for the couple, Dinah remained unconvinced that she wasn’t being punk’d, and she emphasized as much to her daughter. “You always used to do this sort of thing. Now, if you’d said Laurel was pregnant, I might’ve fallen for it.”

Sara balked. “What? Who would believe Laurel got—I’m the one in a stable relationship!”

“With a woman!” Dinah exclaimed. To be fair, that was an entirely reasonable excuse for skepticism in context, but Sara, with her hormones and pregnancy brain, took it very personal. 

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that before I told you I was pregnant.”

“No, Sara, of course this isn’t about you being gay, I—”

“Bi!” Sara cried. “For chrissake, I’m bi!”

Dinah frowned. “If you’re committed to her, does that matter?”

“It matters if you have a problem with it.”

“I don’t! I fully support you, sweetie. All I’m saying is, it’s biologically impossible for your relationship to result in pregnancy, and I won’t get my hopes up for one of your silly pranks.” 

At that, the anger went out of Sara, and she leaned back in her chair and said, “Mom, I swear it’s not a joke. It’s not impossible if you’ve got friends at STAR Labs.” 

“No,” Dinah said, shaking her head and seeming to shift from disbelief to denial as her voice went high. “No, Sara, this is almost as bad as the time you faked the Harvard acceptance letter. You even used that stamp…”

Sin snorted, “Ha, you used to hafta wait for those to come in the regular mail?”

Nyssa raised an unamused eyebrow at her. “Back when I was a child, we had to turn a crank to power the television.” 

“Woah, really?”

“No,” Nyssa said with a smirk. “Don’t be ridiculous; we didn’t have a television.”

Talia flipped her hair imperiously and said, “We did, before you were born. I remember the shift from black and white to color pictures.” 

“You’re way too young for that,” Quentin objected. 

“Western innovation came slow to us in Nanda Parbat,” Talia justified smoothly. It wasn’t exactly a lie, even if the absence of certain technology was by choice. 

Amidst the distraction of the tangent conversation, Sara withdrew a printout from her back pocket and slid it across the table toward her mother. It was a sonogram, and it had the desired effect almost immediately. 

“You’re really pregnant?” And then Dinah began to weep as she clutched the image. “Oh, my god. My baby’s pregnant.”

Skittishly, Nyssa clasped Sara’s forearm. “Beloved,” she hissed. 

Sara chuckled. “Sometimes, babe, you’re straight up, like, a guy in a sitcom.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re _not good with crying women_.”

Before Nyssa could think of a response, William asked her the question no one else had been prepared to vocalize, “Wait, Auntie Sara’s having a baby? Who’s the dad?” 

“That would be me,” Nyssa said slowly. “In a way.”

Quentin reached around Laurel and gently pried the sonogram from Dinah’s fingers. 

Talia jumped in and helpfully explained, “Nyssa and Sara are having a baby together. He—”

“Or she!” Laurel interjected. 

“—or she,” Talia amended, “will have two mothers instead of a mother and father.” 

Sara frowned, not wanting anyone to even inadvertently question Nyssa’s parental involvement. “We’re not being—what’s the word for that?—euphemistic? This is biologically as much Nys’s baby as it is mine.”

Quentin’s eyebrows hiked up, and he looked at Nyssa. “You got my daughter pregnant?”

For the first time, Nyssa was almost intimidated by her Beloved’s father. “Yes,” she confirmed, “but not by traditional means, sir.”

“Still,” Roy piped up, “that’s dope. Way to go, Nyssa.” He leaned out and held out his hand for a high five, which Nyssa supplied bemusedly. 

Hiding a mild smirk at Roy’s enthusiasm, Quentin nodded and said, “Alright. Congratulations, then.” 

“Can I help name it?” William asked. 

“Of course,” Nyssa reflexively agreed. When Sara kicked her under the table, she grimaced apologetically. 

From there, it was just an influx of congratulations until Quentin turned to his older daughter, who had been hanging back, and asked, “Laurel, aren’t you excited?”

Laurel grinned. “Yeah, but I already knew.”

Quentin spun to fully face her. “You knew?”

“Um,” she stalled, eyes wide. “No, I…sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I think I just had a minor stroke. Of course I didn’t know.”

“Dad,” Sara intervened, “leave Laurel alone. It’s not her fault Talia has a big mouth.”

“Why did you tell Nyssa’s sister and not your own parents?” Quentin demanded. 

“I was trying to mend a broken family!”

“When did you become Barry Allen?” Oliver scoffed. 

Barry let out an indignant noise, but Felicity pointed out that it was acutely accurate and not exactly an insult. 

After dinner, Talia pulled Nyssa aside in the living room and told her in a hushed tone, “I’ve been putting out feelers, and…” She glanced around and switched to Arabic. “While there are many still loyal to the Demon’s Head, we still have a great many enemies as well. Your ending the League did little to assuage the hatred, unfortunately.” 

“How powerful is the enemy contingency?”

“Not extremely. You haven’t encountered them yet, have you?”

Nyssa shook her head. “And you believe that means they don’t know where I am?” 

“Father took care of the most severe threats efficiently. I doubt those that remain would be rational or patient enough to wait if they knew how to find you. That you’ve been domesticated doesn’t hurt.”

There was a flash of visceral objection in Nyssa’s eyes—a remnant of their father’s influence. She asked, “Is this you warning me or informing me that my new lifestyle is keeping me safe?” 

“Both, I suppose,” Talia admitted. “The revised identity Laurel secured for you will no doubt help further, but the threat will always be there, and, once you’ve been found, it’s only a matter of time before your environment is…compromised, in a manner of speaking.”

“Talia, this isn’t exactly heartening,” Nyssa sighed. 

“There’s always a chance you’ll remain under the radar until you and Sara are old and gray, but I don’t want you to overlook the danger. Your child will be the Heir to the Demon whether you like it or not.”

Again, Nyssa sighed, and she twisted the ring on her finger. “Couldn’t our father have been a simple merchant or farmer?” 

A surprised laugh escaped Talia, who replied, “If he had been, you wouldn’t have any of the things you love, including Sara. We wouldn’t have been born. What matters, though, is that you have plenty of allies willing to come to your aid if necessary. And these insufferably good heroes,” she said dryly, glancing around at the small portion of of the Justice League currently assembled in Nyssa’s living room. Nyssa frowned disapprovingly, and Talia amended, “I suppose they’re tolerable.” 

Meanwhile across the room, Sin leaned in close to Thea and said, “Y’know what Sara told me once? She said, when she was lost, floatin’ out at sea, it wasn’t your brother she expected to save her. Said she dreamt of an angel.”

“Nyssa doesn’t exactly fit the profile of an angel.”

“Not accordin’ to a good Catholic girl,” Sin agreed. “But Sara’s never been a good Catholic girl.” 

Thea laughed. “So Sara thinks Nyssa found her because of a dream?” 

“No, I just think I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” Sara said, coming up behind them and clapping Thea on the back. 

“Jeezus, Sara!” Thea gasped, clutching her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

“Of course not.” Sara smirked. “Just here to remind you to be thankful for what you’ve got. You don’t always get second chances.” 

“Or third chances,” Sin pointed out. 

“Like I said, I’m damn lucky,” Sara confirmed before walking over to where Nyssa was standing with Talia. 

Then, too loud and in English, Talia said, “And I’ll be in the room next to yours, so try and remember to keep it down.” She wiggled her eyebrows at an approaching Sara, then strode off. 

“Ummm…” Sara drew out, confused. 

As much as Nyssa knew Talia was being helpful by diverting suspicion from the serious conversation they’d been having, she still burned with embarrassment and grumbled, “She is on thin rice.”

She tried, but Sara couldn’t contain her giggles. “Thin ice, babe. She’s on thin ice.” 

“Ah.” Nyssa blinked and sat down on the couch. “Of course. I knew rice seemed particularly nonsensical.” 

Sara continued to grin, and, in response to Nyssa’s embarrassed frown, she justified, “Sorry, it’s just…you never make mistakes like that. It’s always nice to be reminded that you’re human. I really, really like that about you.” 

“Baby, is that really making you…?”

“Are you complaining?” Sara asked, sliding smoothly onto her lap. 

Nyssa’s nose wrinkled cutely. “Certainly not, but perhaps now’s not the time.”

As if to emphasize her point, William wandered over. “You don’t look pregnant,” he told Sara, hoisting himself up onto the couch. 

“I’ll start showing more soon,” she told him and smoothed her palm over her belly to make the slight bump more evident. “I’ve got six months to go, and it’d be really miserable if I was whale-sized that whole time.” 

“Why? Does it hurt?”

Sara chuckled. “Oh, I meant miserable for Nyssa, ‘cause she has to deal with me.” 

“Auntie Nyssa?” William probed, peering at her with big, bright eyes. “Will you still be my friend after the baby is born?”

“William, nothing will ever prevent me from being your friend,” she promised. 

Sin looked over at her adoptive parents, as they chatted with William, and grinned. “You know,” she said to Thea, “I think they’re gonna be alright.” 

Over time, a great many things would change, but that would remain true. Their lives would never be what one would consider normal; they were far from average, after all. The world had many labels for them–heroes, vigilantes, deities–but they were, at heart and most importantly, the cat, the Canary, and the dinosaur. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of this story, folks. I hope you've enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think, which chapter or moment you liked best, etc. (Or which chapter title you liked best, because I'm curious if anyone pays attention to those) Thanks to everyone who stuck with me even through the erratic posting. And, to those who didn't read this until it was complete, I still want to hear from you! Comments will give me inspiration to continue writing. (If that's something you want.)  
> :)


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